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JOHN OLIVER HOBBES 



The Wisdom 
of the Wise 



A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



» 



NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 




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GwrightN?_.__L§lO_ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSJT. 



The Wisdom of the Wise 

The wise want love, and those who love want wisdom " 



JOHN OLIVER HOBBES 

• i 

The Wisdom 
of the Wise 

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 

A » 



NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



9028; 



Library of Congress 

Two Copies Received 
DEC 18 1900 

Copyright «uy 

SECOND COPY 

DHIwod to 

ORDER DIVISION 
JAN 11 1901 






A- 



^y 



Copyright, 1900, 
By Pearl Mary Teresa Craigib 



A 11 righ ts reserved 



^ 



CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY 

The Duke of St. Asaph. 

LORD APPLEFORD, F.S.A., author of The History of By- 
zantine Mosaics. 
Ralph Wutherixg, author of Twilights in Turkey. 
Tom m ie B i stern. 

Bertram Romney, cousin of the Duchess of St. Asaph. 
De Lisle Bradgers, M.P. 
The Duchess of St. Asaph. 
Amabel East, an heiress. 
Lady Chale, aunt of the Duchess. 
Ada Wuthering) . , , 
Kate Bistern j- cous,ns of the Duchess ' 

Mrs. Lynton ) _ , . . , ^ # 

vaunts of Amabel East. 
Mrs. Lupton Milles) 

Joynbee, the Duchess of St. Asaph's old nurse. 

Pennington, Miss East's maid. 



ACT I. — Scene: The Pink Saloon at Chale House, 
Piccadilly. A few minutes elapse. 

ACT II.— SCENE : The Blue Saloon at Chale House. 

ACT III. — SCENE : The Louis Seize suite at the Cosmo- 
politan Hotel. The same night. 



The Wisdom of the Wise 



ACT I 

Scene: The Pink Saloon at Chale House, Piccadilly. 
Time : After dinner : an evening in June. The Blue 
Saloon can be seen beyond. Card-tables are arranged 
at the side of the stage. The windows are open, but 
the lights are lit. Outside it is clear moonlight, and 
the garden below can be seen. Lady Chale, a hand- 
some woman about forty, and Mrs. Ralph Wuther- 
ING are sitting at each end of a sofa engaged in work. 
AdaWutheringm«m% lace; Lady Chale is 
knitting a charity shawl. ^They are both dressed in 
the height of fashion. Mrs. BlSTERN, a pretty woman 
about twenty-six, is reading a large, book. The foot- 
men are just leaving the room with coffee cups. There 
is a short silence. 

ADA WUTHERING {looking Up). 

Where is Georgina ? 

LADY CHALE. 

She has gone upstairs to have her hair done higher. 
(Kate yawns.) But she is so pretty that nothing matters. 
She is lovely to-night. 

ADA {with an ill grace). 
Hardly that, yet, when one looks at her, I suppose one 
does think her pretty. (Kate yawns. This time both 
W07ne7i look at her.) She wants to look especially nice when 
the Duke comes back this evening. 



2 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

LADY CHALE. 

She will spoil an excellent husband. 

ADA. 

And the vulgarity of taking so much trouble ! Such bad 
taste ! Fools will take her for a fool ! 

LADY CHALE. 

But she's extravagantly devoted to the Duke. It is a pity, 
of course — a great pity. 

KATE. 

Where is her dignity ? I ask no more. The Duke will 
lose his esteem for her. 

ADA. 

I hate a man who can only love those whom he esteems. 
He always runs away with his friend's wife. 

LADY CHALE. 

Ada, you are too young for these ideas. People will 
think that your husband is unkind to you. 

ADA. 

Why ? Doesn't every one know that my marriage was 
for love — and — ^200,000 ! . . . I suppose discontented 
women should always talk about the nightingale's note, and 
roses, and true lover's knots. These subjects are vague and 
you can hammer on 'em till all is blue ! But avoid things 
which have made you cry : they make other people yawn. 

LADY CHALE (as Kate yawns again). 
Dear Kate, why are you yawning so dreadfully ? 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 3 

KATE. 
I am trying to read Maurice Appleford's History of By- 
zantine Mosaics. 

LADY CHALE. 

I am sure it is ^.rcellent, but somehow, with so many 
things going on, it — somehow — doesn't grip one. 

ADA. 

Oh, Aunt, it's deadly — it is like the Ten Commandments 
with everything emotional left out ? 

{Enter Footman, followed by Amabel East, Mrs. Lyn- 
ton, and Mrs. Lupton Milles.) 

footman (announcing). 
Miss East,. Mrs. Lynton, and Mrs. Lupton.. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES {correcting him). 
Mrs. Lupton Milles. 

FOOTMAN. 

And Mrs. Lupton Milles. 

(He goes out.) 

LADY CHALE (rising). 

Ah, Miss East, my niece has told me so much about you. 
This is an unexpected pleasure. 

AMABEL. 

You are very kind. I will explain my call in a minute. 
Let me introduce my aunts — Mrs. Lynton and Mrs. Lupton 
Milles. 
( They bow stiffly and seat themselves on distant chairs.) 



4 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

LADY CHALE. 

You were at the Convent School with Georgina, I believe. 

AMABEL. 
Yes, but I am some years older than Georgina. I went 
back to the Convent to rest after my third season. 

LADY CHALE. 

How peaceful ! 

AMABEL {romatiticall)'). 

Especially to one who hates the world as I do. When I 
am in the world my heart is like a little boat on a great sea, 
— it floats out into the dark, away and away and away 
. . . oh, how often I have wished to sink for ever under 
the waves and rest under them ! 

LADY CHALE. 

How interesting- ! How poetical ! 
AMABEL. 

I love Swinburne and science and dogs. I live for my 
dogs. fll 

LADY CHALE. 

How kind ! 

AMAI3EL. 

But history is my real interest. I collate documents. I 
once knew a historian. (Sighs deeply.) Georgina asked 
me to go to the Merediths' ball with her to-night. I came 
in to say that I must go first to an At Home given by some 

old friends of my father's. 

LADY CHALE. 

How tire- so me ! 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE c 

AMABEL. 

Well, just tell Georgina. that I hope to get back in an 
hour's time. I leave London for Russia to-morrow morn- 
ing. 

LADY CHALE. 

Do you travel alone ? 

AMABEL. 

Oh no. 

MRS. LYNTON AND MRS. LUPTON MILLES {in Uflison). 

We always travel with Amabel. 

LADY CHALE. 

Oh, they always travel with you. 

{Enter Footman.) 

FOOTMAN. 

Her Grace would be glad to see Miss East upstairs. 

AMABEL. 

I'll come at once. 

{She goes out followed by the Foo viAN.) 
LADY CHALE {to the aunts). 
Your niece looks rather delicate. 

MRS. LYNTON {to MRS. LUPTON MlLLES). 

That is what I say. You hear, Fanny ? 

mrs. lupton MILLES (confidentially). 
But she isn't really delicate, Lady Chaie : it isn't her chest, 
it is her mind. 

LADY CHALE {bored). 



Indeed 



6 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES (/tfMRS. LYNTON). 

Shall I tell her? Yes, I will. You have a feeling heart. 
I'm sure. (Lady Chale bows very coldly) The fact is my 
niece has had an unfortunate attachment. I won't mention 
names, because it isn't safe, but she fell in love with a young- 
man of good family about five years ago. We couldn't 
give our consent to the engagement, and she's never been 
the same since. 

' MRS. LYNTON. 

And the offers she has had — the chances, so to say ! 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

I assure you, Lady Chale, we don't know what to do with 
her. The young man in question was, as we thought, after 
her money. He was very steady : he wrote books, and was, 
so far, a nice, kind man. But could we let her throw herself 
away ? 

MRS. LYNTON {to LADY CHALE). 

And now what do you think ? 

lady chale {still bored) . 
I cannot guess. 

MRS. LYNTON. 

He has come into a large fortune of his own. bless you ! 
( To her sister) Shall I tell tilt rest ? Yes, I will. And he 
has a title, too ! 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Now, don't say any more. Sarah. You will regret it. 
But, in justice to the man, / may mention that he proposed 
again. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE J 

LADY CHALE. 

Then why didn't she accept him ? 

MRS. LYNTON. 

Pride, Lady Chale, pride. Having said, " No. thank you," 
when he was poor, she is determined not to say, " Yes, 
please," now that he is rich. 

LADY CHALE. 

I think that is rather morbid. 

MRS. LYNTON. 

So do I. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

She is wearing us out*. But what can one do with girls 
at the present day ? She is taking us to Russia — for I don't 
know how long, and it is most disheartening. 
{Enter FOOTMAN.) 

FOOTMAN. 

Miss East is waiting in the hall for Mrs. Lynton and Mrs. 
Lupton Milles. 

( They rise?) 

MRS. LYNTON. 

Good-bye, Lady Chale. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Good-bye, Lady Chale. Pray let none of this go any 
further. 

(Lady Chale bows frigidly. They go out) 



Who on earth was that good-looking girl in pink and 
pearls and pathos ? 



8 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

LADY CHALE. 

The girl is a school friend of Georgina's, — Amabel East. 

ADA. 

Oh, I know. The heiress— thirty thousand a year. Her 
father was East and Holker's — the china shop, you know. 

KATE. 

Georgina says she is dreadfully afraid of being married 
for her money. 

LADY CHALE. 

I can believe that men would admire her very much. I 
gather, too, that she is entangled in a hopeless attachment. 

ADA. 

An excellent thing. By the time she is disentangled, she 
will be the best company possible ! And who were the in- 
fernal old bores ? 

LADY CHALE. 

Her two aunts. 

ADA. 

By the by, what are the men talking about ? What a 
time they are ! 

LADY CHALE. 

Why is Appleford so moody this evening ? 

ADA. 

I can't help wondering why he doesn't marry. 

KATE. 

The chief reason is that he is not in love with anybody. 

{Enter Lord Appleford, Bistern, Wuthering, and 

Bertram Romney.) 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 9 

romney(/a Lady Chale). 
Where is Georgina? 

bi stern {to Kate). 

I suppose it is quite settled about the Merediths ? You 
are going ? 

KATE. 

Of course. Now, run away and play cards with Ralph, 
there's a dear darling ! 

(Bistern^yvj to card-table.) 
WUTHERING {to ADA). 

What is the programme ? 

ADA. 

You are to play cards and be quiet till we start. But, be 
nice about it. 

WUTHERING. 

Nice ! I like that. As if I wouldn't far rather remain at 
home with you. 

ADA. 

With me ! My dear Ralph, are you becoming a humour- 
ist ? 

(WUTHERING goes Up and joins ROMNEY and BlSTERN. 

BlSTERN, WUTHERING, a;id ROMXEY play orrds.) 

ADA {to APPLEFORD). 

You see we have been reading your book ! yHolds it i>o. ) 

APPLEFORD. 
That's good of you! But 1 wish you had cut the leaves 
first! {To Kate.) Where is. Georgina"? 



IO THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

KATE. 
Putting other flowers in her hair. 

APPLEFORD. 

What a lucky fellow Sydney is ! Let us hope that this 
marriage will turn out well. 

LADY CHALE. 

It must turn out well, my dear Appleford. It is already a 
great success. Let me see — how long is it since the wed- 
ding? 

APPLEFORD. 

Just a fortnight. 

LADY CHALE. 

This, then, is the first evening that the Duke has dined 
out and left her at home. 

ADA. 

That speaks well for her. She has kept him amused for a 
fortnight ! 

APPLEFORD. 

Wait a little longer. Georgina is very young : the Duke 
is but thirty . . . and a cynic. 

KATE. 

I suppose he is. This would seem the one drawback. 

APPLEFORD. 

His cynicism is all right. 1 don't fear that. But a man 
who is cynical at thirty will be romantic at forty-nine. And 
I am thinking of his romance. There's the danger. For 
Georgina, who is romantic at nineteen, may be cynical at 
fifty. And then . . . ho ! ho ! 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE II 

ADA. 
As you say . . . and then ! 

LADY CHALE. 

This new way of talking is absurd. One would think, to 
hear you all, that life was something remarkable, whereas it 
is the most ordinary affair. . . . Georgina and the Duke 
are perfectly contented, so far. 

KATE. 

If it will only last ! 

APPLEFORD. 

Why shouldn't it last ? 

KATE. 

Because human nature is treacherous. I always cry when 
I see two people happy ! 

ROMNEY (at table). 
Do you bet ? 

APPLEFORD. 

Where did you say that Sydney was dining this evening ? 

LADY CHALE. 

He is the guest of the evening at the Cut-of-Mutton Club. 
Of course you will ask what has he done to deserve it. 

KATE. 

Good gracious ! What a man has done bores everybody 
but what he is going to do is always delightful. 



12 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ADA. 
It's such fun wondering whether he is going to fail. The 
Cut-of-Mutton, they all tell me, is the best club in London. 

APPLEFORD. 

As for the Carlton, it was a club. It is now a crowd. 
The Athenaeum was a stronghold. It is now a waiting- 
room. 

WUTHERING {at table). 
What cards you are holding ! 
(APPLEFORD leaves them and saunters toward the card- 
players.) 

ADA. 

My dear Kate, how does Georgina seem to you ? 

KATE. 

Quite as usual. 

ADA. 

Do you think she minds the Duke dining out without her ? 

KATE. 

Oh no. You see, it is a political dinner, and she is most 
ambitious about his public career. 

ADA. 

What did she do after lunch ? 

KATE. 

She played the piano. 

ADA. 

What did she do before tea ? 



1HE WISDOM OF THE WISE 1 3 

KATE. 



She played the piano. 
And — after tea ? 
She played the piano. 



ADA. 



KATE. 



ADA. 

Then she means to be happy. All the same, I must see 
her before he comes back. Everything' turns on this meet- 
ing-. The Duke — every man — is practically three men. 
There is the man you know before he proposes : there is the 
man you have accepted : there is the man you have married. 

B I STERN (at table). 
I can't get a pair. 

KATE (rising). 
Yes, there's the man you have married. If I see Georg- 
ia I will send her to you. 

(She goes out and Appleford again comes doian.) 

APPLEFORD. 

Where is Georgina ? 

ADA. 

At this crisis in her life, a woman's tact is wanted. Let 
me see her first. 

APPLEFORD. 

Crisis ! What do you mean ? 

ADA. 

Is not this the first evening since their marriage that they 
have not spent together ? 



14 XHE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

APPLEFORD. 

I hope Georgina will never put sentimentality in the way 
of Sydney's career. 

ADA. 

The Duke is a very odd young man. 

APPLEFORD. 

He has a strong character, but the stronger the will the 
less inconstant the heart. 

ADA. 

Do you mean to tell me that he has never flirted ? 

APPLEFORD. 
I would not go so far as that ! 

ADA. 

At one time, people said he was running after some com- 
mon little thing with a lot of money. Did you ever hear 
that ? 

APPLEFORD. 

Never. 

ADA. 

Boys, of course, are always taken in. Oh, I am so miser- 
able ! 

APPLEFORD. 

You, too ! 

ADA. 

I am carrying a burden of hate on my soul ; do you hear ? 
— hate ! Most women have a secret love — I have a secret 
hate. It gives me no peace. Have some pity on me ! 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 1$ 

APPLEFORD. 

If I felt it, could I show it ? Yet no one in the world is 
more devoted to you than I am. 

ADA. 

Oh, I know that. 

WUTHERING (at table). 
Do you bet ? 

APPLEFORD. 

Whom do you hate ? Let me see if I can guess . . . 
Surely it is not . . . 

ADA. 

It is Georgina ! I hate her, and there is nothing — noth- 
ing — nothing I wouldn't do to spite her. 

APPLEFORD. 

But what has she done ? 

ADA. 

I know that she is charming, but — she has all the money 
— and all the friends of the family ! 

APPLEFORD. 

But there is more than this in so much hatred. 

ADA. 

You are right. I have always thought that if she had not 
come home from school just when she did, St. Asaph would 
have married me. Every one thought so. 

APPLEFORD. 

My dear girl, you must get that notion out of your head. 
St. Asaph never had the least intention of marrying you. 



l6 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ADA. 

He paid me great attention. He admired me, at any 
rate. He put me in a false position, and so — just out of 
embarrassment — I made a ridiculous marriage myself! 

APPLEFORD. 

Was it so very ridiculous ? 

ADA. 

Of course. But it is only by marriage that a poor git!, 
with even decent looks, can live peaceably among the nicest 
women ! And so— I married a person I met at a party. I 
knew nothing about him, and he cared nothing about me. 
It was all a question of property and pleasing people. 

APPLEFORD. 

This is a very sad business. 

ADA. 

Of course it is sad ! 

APPLEFORD. 

Now, if you will take my advice . . . 

ADA. 

I never take your advice, and that is why I still trust you, 
and also why . . . 

APPLEFORD. 

Yes? 

ADA. 

You still trust me ! Ah, here is Georgina. 

(Enter ike Duchess of St. Asaph.) 



LriE WISDOM OF I'ilE WISE 17 

GEORG.INA. 
Has Sydney come back yet ? 

(Ada moves away.) 

APPLEFORD. 

I doubt whether he could get away so soon. You are 
most fortunate, Georgina ! 

GEORGINA. 
It seems a real love story at last, doesn't it ? 
appleford (taking her hands). 
Then you are happy? I cannot see you and doubt it. 

georgina. 
Yet you always sigh when you look at me. 

appleford. 
Because you remind me— I don't know why — of some 
one I knew long ago. 

georgina. 
Is she dead ? 

APPLEFORD. 

To me — yes. 

GEORGINA {innocently). 
Does that mean that she is married ? 

APPLEFORD (smiling). 
No. 

GEORGINA {co7ifide?itly). 

Then you may not have to sigh every time you see me. 

(She presses h ' • hand and moves away to the sofa.) 



18 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ADA {returning to Appleford). 
You must let me talk to her. 

APPLEFORD. 

Georgina's great charm is her simplicity. Her thoughts 
are in her face. It is as clear as glass. 

ADA. 

How lucky it is, then, that, so far, she has not met many 
women ! I must put her on her guard. 

(Appleford goes up, shrugging his shoulders. He 
joins men at card-table, and all go off on balcony.) 

ADA {going over to GEORGINA). 
How do you like dining at home again with all of us ? 

GEORGINA. 

I feel as though I were a stranger. 

ADA. 

Stranger ! In your old home— with us— your own 
cousins ! 

GEORGINA. 

Well, you see, I don't know Kate very well, and although 
this is my aunt's house, I don't know her very well ! 

GEORGINA. 

Some people say that the engagement days »»r the best 
in a woman's life, but any day would be perfect it Sydney 
were with me ! 

ADA. 

I should think so! As things are at present, he could 
swear by you ! I can see nothing but disaster. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 19 

GEORGINA. 

How little you know him ! 

ADA. 

You mean you don't know men ! With men you must be 
like the quail— a little uncertain. You will bore him. Now 
when he comes back this evening. ... * 

GEORGINA. 

Yes? 

ADA. 

Remember thai this is a crisis. Be an enigma — be subtle, 
— that kind of thing. Men like mysterious women. 

GEORGINA. 

But I am not a mystery. 

ADA {severely). 
You must make yourself one. For instance, when he 
comes, what will be your first impulse ? 

GEORGINA. 

Well, the impulse will be to put my arms round his neck. 

ADA {breathlessly). 
Then. . . . 

GEORGINA. 

I may say how much I have missed him. 

ADA {horrified). 
Go on ! 

GEORGINA. 

I shall sit on the ground at his feet, and put my head 
against his knee, — so — and. . . . 



20 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ADA {sadly). 
Yes, that is one's impulse ! But it must be checked. 
Marriage is a discipline of character . . . nothing else. 

GEORGINA. 

But Sydney is so sympathetic. I understand him before 
he speaks. 

ADA. 

Nothing could be more dangerous, or — later on — duller ! 
There will be no conversation. 

GEORGINA. 

You see, he is so thoughtful — he likes quiet women. 

ADA. 

I own that it is bad taste for a woman to be too amusing. 
Even men are only witty when they have to be so for their 
bread and butter. But, to return to instincts: — of course, 
you won't follow out this lower middle-class impulse. 

GEORGINA. 

I don't see why I shouldn't. 

ADA. 

Because he will not always leave dinners early, and you 
will not always be glad to see him home so soon. Don't 
make traditions. 

GEORGINA {sarcastically) . 
Then what would you suggest ? 

ADA. 

Well . . . show great surprise, ask no questions, give 
no hint about your own goings on in his absence, — in fact, 
say nothing at all, and he may tell you a great deal. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 21 

GEORGINA {romantically). 

How differently we see things — you and I ! I would de- 
vote every feeling, every thought, each hour, each instant of 
existence to Sydney. Such love I expect in return; without 
it I should not wish to live. 

ADA. 

My dear, a man with a career can have no time to waste 
upon his wife or his friends — he has to devote himself 
wholly to his enemies ! 

GEORGINA. 

I wonder if you are right. Sydney has that quality in him 
which would call a woman who loved him to follow him to 
an attic. 

ADA. 

Ah, well, as it happens, you need only accompany him to 
race meetings. 

KATE {coining down to them). 
My dear Georgina, where did you get that gown ? 

GEORGINA. 

It is one of my trousseau gowns. 

KATE. 

I can't bear it. A little thirty-guinea gown is quite enough 
when you're dining quietly at home. Why u - ail round in 
such gorgeous things. 

GEORGINA. 

Why shouldn't I look my best to please my own IrusBancP? 



22 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

KATE. 
I cannot go into that. All I know is that when I first 
married I never wore anything more dccolletee than a V. 

GEORGINA. 

If I don't please him some other woman will. 

ADA. 

How do I manage ? This way. I am nice — I am young 
— I am good-tempered — I am not dull. Why then should I 
worry myself ? Ralph can't meet a pleasanter woman. If 
he wants a change, he must find some vulgar, horrid little 
climber. 

KATE {ignoring her and turning to Georgina). 

Sydney will esteem you very lightly. He can't place yms 
on a pedestal apart. 

GEORGINA. 
Why should he ? I am not an heirloom! 

KATE {austerely). 
Remember that beauty passes away, but the irresistible 
force of virtue is a permanent attraction. 

GEORGINA. 

But can't one be just as virtuous in a pretty gown ? 

KATE. 

I decline to argue. 

ADA. 

What do you know of life ? You came here for your first 
season. . . . The Duke met you— fell in love with you. . . . 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 23 

GEORGINA {interrupting). 
And travelled in order to forget me ! But, he says, that 
whenever he looked at the sky he thought of me ! 

ADA. 

Ah, if a man wants to forget a woman he should keep his 
gaze off the sky, and look out for another pair of eyes ! At 
any rate, he came back to you and married you. There's 
your little history. But, remember this the joy of living con- 
sists, for a man, in being constantly false to some ever faith- 
ful woman ! 

KATE. 

That's true — every word of it ! 
(Kate and Ada go up and on to balcony as Joynbee, 
Georgina's old nurse, comes in.) 

OYNBEE. 

Is this the scarf, miss ... I mean, your Grace. I never 
can remember. 

GEORGINA. 

Yes. 

JOYNBEE. 

Why are you so pale and thoughtful, your Grace ? 

GEORGINA. 

Oh, I don't know, nurse. 

JOYNBEE. 

Mot know — upon my heart and life, what next ? 

GEORGINA. 

I shall never know how to manage men. 



24 •"' ^ WISDOM OF THE WISE 

JOYNBEE. 
Why, bless my soul ! "there's no harm in them, really. 
They may be trying, but gentlemen are that way. 

GEORGINA. 

But Ada and Kate both say that you must not tell your 
husband the truth. 

JOYNBEE. 

I wouldn't go so far as that. But keep a lot of little things 
to yourself, my lamb. Don't tell any man all you know. 
They aren't able to bear it. Remember what they are and 
the words of Job — " Man that is born of woman" . . . we 
bring them into the world and they do all they can to send 
us out of it. 

GEORGINA. 

Oh, if I thought that. . . . 

JOYNBEE. 

My poppet, they never intend anything unkind — not they. 
But when they see some slip of a woman and they happen 
to remember what a lot she has to do and suffer and think, 
poor thing, they merely want to put her out of her misery. 
Ah, man would be shocking if he weren't so natural. 

GEORGINA. 

What shall I do ? 

JOYNBEE. 

My advice is this. Be as nice as you can, hold your 
tongue, and say your prayers regular. 

(ROMNEY comes, down and joi?is GEORGINA as JOYNBEE 
goes 021 1.) 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 25 

ROMNEY. 

I've had good luck this evening. I've been winning. 

GEORGINA. 

What will you buy ? 

ROMNEY. 

The one thing I want is not to be bought. 

GEORGINA. 

What is that ? 

ROMNEY (intensely). 
Forgetfulness. 

GEORGINA [affecting not to tinder stand). 
What do you want to forget, Bertram ? 

ROMNEY. 

The old days in Paris. 

GEORGINA. 

Weren't they fun ? Do you remember you used to bring 
me marrons glaces ? How I used to look forward to those 
visits ! 

ROMNEY. 

Did you really look forward to them, Georgina ? 

GEORGINA. 

Of course. You were the only man who ever came to 
see me at the Convent. What talks we used to have ! 

ROMNEY. 

You won't spare much time for me now, I suppose ? 
You are so wrapped up in Sydney. 



26 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

GEORGINA {cheerfully). 
Why don't you marry, Bertram ? 

romney {gloomily). 
I shall never marry. 

GEORGINA {confidentially). 
Tell me, are Ada and Kate happy in their marriages ? 

ROMNEY. 

Well, Ralph Wuthering, of course, tells Kate all his 
troubles. 

GEORGINA. 

But Kate is Tommie's wife. 

ROMNEY. 

Naturally, that is why she admires Ralph. He is fine, — 
really fine, you know. 

GEORGINA. 

In what way ? 

ROMNEY. 

In a spiritual sense. Ralph's friendship with Kate is 
very beautiful. We all feel it. Wuthering is so literary, 
too. Haven't you read Twilights in Turkey? Everyone 
says it's simply vital. 

(APPLEFORD enters and comes sloiuly down.) 

GEORGINA. 

I have never heard either Ralph Wuthering or Tommie 
Bistern speak. 

ROMNEY. 

They never talk before their wives. You must get them 
alone. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 27 

GEORGINA. 

How strange all this seems ! 

ROMNEY. 

It does at first. But it answers. That's the thing. 
(Appleford comes down to them and ROMNEY moves 
away.) 

APPLEFORD. 

Now I think I may interrupt you. 

GEORGINA. 

How glad I am to see you ! Are you well ? You look 
tired. Tell me what you think of my husband. Isn't he 
clever? Isn't he charming ? 

APPLEFORD. 

Almost he deserves you ! 

GEORGINA. 

He will be a great man some day — a Prime Minister — I 
am sure of that. My pride — then ! 

APPLEFORD. 

We must manage it to please you ! Now, shall I show 
my faith in you by telling you a secret ? Twamerville is to 
be made a peer and sent as Governor to Beltoria. This 
creates a little vacancy. 

GEORGINA. 

Yes. . . . 

APPLEFORD. 

Would you like to see your Duke the Secretary for the 
Dockvards ? 



28 HE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

GEORGINA {clasping her hands). 
Would that be possible? It seems too much to hope for! 

APPLEFORD. 

I can do my best, at any rate, and, in the meantime, be 
discreet. 

GEORGINA. 

But that is so difficult. 

APPLEFORD. 

Well, discretion generally means having a good memory 
for the lies you have told, but, in this case, I merely ask 
you to forget the lies your husband may be obliged to tell ! 

GEORGINA. 

I don't want to be a selfish wife. I wish to think always 
of his future. I won't keep him to myself. I won't make 
demands upon his time. He shall just work and work and 
work ! 

APPLEFORD. 

Will he wish you to be so disinterested ? Now, how 
long have we two known each other ? 

GEORGINA. 

Oh, I forget. Ever so long. Why, you knew mama 

APPLEFORD. 

Happy women don't need friends. 
GEORGINA. 

How can I be happy if I think only of Sydney's career ? 



T 1 1 E W I S 1 )( > M OF TH E WISE 2 ) 

APPLKl'OKIi. 

No; unselfish women may be thankful, and, possibly, 
after many tears, contented, but happy— hardly. By nature, 

you are jealous . . . 

t 

GEORGINA, 

No ! 

APPLEFORD. 

Yes, you are ! By nature, you detest his future. By 
nature, you want him to be with you always. 

GEORGINA. 

13 .: -wait— I conquer this . . . 

APPLEFORD. 

And, womanlike, go to the opposite extreme ! 

GEORGINA. 
1 want to keep his love always. 

APPLEFORD. 

Then remember this always. Neither a sweet disposition, 
nor tact, nor flattery, nor good looks can chain a man's 
affection. One thing only counts. 

GEORGINA. 

And that ? 

APPLEFORD. 

His own inclination. When a man loves a woman she 
can be as cross, or stupid, or unkind as she pleases. 

GEORGINA. 

And when he doesn't love her ? 



30 THE WISDOxM OF THE WISE 

APPLEFORD. 

If she were an angel from heaven she couldn't keep him 
for five minutes. 

GEORGINA. 

Oh, why do you tell me these sad things ? 

APPLEFORD. 

Because I want your married life to be a great success. 
What is it that can bear disillusion, disappointment, your 
absence and, above all, your presence ? 

GEORGINA. 

Love, of course ! 

APPLEFORD, 

No, dear lady, friendship. 
(BiSTERN, Wuthering, Ada, and Kate enter from 
balco7iy.) 

BISTERN {coming down). 
What a time St. Asaph is! {To Georgina.) You 
mustn't mind St. Asaph dining out, my dear. Think of his 
position — his career. 

WUTHERING {coming down). 
Yes, one must sing for one's supper in this low world. 

BISTERN. 

And treat his views with deference. He will get enough 
criticism from outside. Let him feel himself in the right 
always, in his own house, at least ! 

WUTHERING. 

And, another thing ! If he gets an idea, don't discourage 
it at once. Keep cheerful and bright. If women thought 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 3 1 

less of their own souls and more about men's tempers, mar- 
riage wouldn't be what it is. 

GEORGINA. 

What is it ? 

WUTHERING. 
What is it ? Can you ask ? Talk to Ada— talk to 
Tommie— talk to Kate— talk to the whole lot of 'em . . . 
talk to Sydney himself ! {She remains silent). 

( Two very tall footmen enter announcing) 
His Grace the Duke of St. Asaph. 
(St. Asaph enters. The footmen go out. Georgina does 
not move. St. Asaph looks at her, smiles at her, 
seems rather puzzled, but does not address. He Jiands 
pamphlets to the men.) 

APPLEFORD. 

Well, did the dinner go off well ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Yes, capitally. 

APPLEFORD. 

Who was chairman ? The Duke of Hampshire ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Oh, much better than that. 

APPLEFORD. 

No ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

Guess ! But you couldn't. It was Bradgers ! 



$2 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

appleford {delighted). 
No, not Bradgers 

ST. ASAPH. 

Yes. I first ran across him in the hall. I saw him nod- 
ding at me : couldn't believe my senses ! But he kept on 
nodding, so I went swaggering up to him, hoping everybody 
saw me ! 

GEORGINA. 

Who on earth is Bradgers ? Does he write for the 
papers ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

No, newspapers are played out, according to Bradgers. 
The great thing now is a penny pamphlet. Bradgers wrote 
pamphlets " Are Britons Slaves," " One man, One Income 
— everybody read 'em — and now — he's here ! 

GEORGINA. 

Where ? 

ST. ASAPH. 
I mean he might be here . . . talking with us now. 
Consummate ! He is, beyond a doubt, the man of the min- 
ute. {Ingenuously) Wasn't it kind of him to ;o out of his 
way to notice me ? 

GEORGINA. 

Very ! 

APPLEFORD {to MRS. BlSTERN). 

Kate, I want you to play that lovely thing of Perosi's. 
(KATE goes into the Blue Saloon and is heard plryir.g dur- 
ing the following scene. Lady Ch ale, Appleford, 
and Ada follow her. St. Asaph stands in the middle 



m'. WISDOM <>F THE WISE gjg 

of the room, looking from one to the other, then picks 
up a magazine from the table. When they have all 
disappeared, lie throws down the book and rushes 
across to Georgina.) 

ST. ASAPH. 

At last ! 

georgina {primly). 
Don't you want some tea ? 

ST. asaph {looking round). 
It's all right. They're not there. 

GEORGINA. 

I should have said that just the same. 

ST. ASAPH. 

What a silly thing to say, darling ! You know I hate tea. 

GEORGINA. 

I am so glad you went to the dinner. It must have been 
an interesting change. 

ST. ASAPH. 

I thought it a beastly bore ! Men's dinners are dreary. 
I never was at so dull a dinner ! I kept thinking of you the 
whole time. What an eternity it seems since I saw you 
last. 

GEORGINA. 

Don't say things just to please me, Sydney, because, if 
we are to be happy . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

Well, this ten't making me particularly happy. I don't 
understand you at all. 



34 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

GEORGINA {pleased). 
You mean you think I am mysterious ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Yes ... I think I should. Here I come worshipping 
you — adoring you, and then . . . 

GEORGINA. 

But, you see women — like quails — are uncertain. 

ST. ASAPH. 

What a revolting thought ! Why, the very thing I love 
you for is your honesty. You have no caprices, no airs, no 
nonsense. I can swear by you. 

GEORGINA. 

But that is all wrong. You must never swear by me. 
You must never be able to say just what I am going to do 
next. Marriage is a discipline of character. For instance, 
do you still think me pretty ? • 

ST. ASAPH. 

You grow prettier every hour. 

GEORGINA. 

Kate says that a woman's looks only matter during the 
first week of marriage, afterwards, one may as well be plain 
as beautiful. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Mrs. Bistern has made so many experiments that she has 
had no time to gain experience. 

GEORGINA. 

I don't understand. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 3$ 

ST. ASAPH. 
Perhaps not. But experience means sticking to one per- 
son. You learn a lot that way. (He watches her for a 
minttte, t hen goes up to her as if struck by a sudden idea?) 
I say, you didn't really mind my going to the dinner, did you ? 

GEORGINA (indignant). 
Didn't I implore you to go ? Didn't I cry till you said 
you would go ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Then have I offended you ? 

GEORGINA. 

Not at all. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Cur you must see that this is not the way ... oh, when 
we first met — do you remember ? 

GEORGINA. 

We were friends then, and it was all different. 

ST. ASAPH. 

You are so beautiful, and I have dared to love you. If I 
had told you at once how much I loved you, what would 
you have said ? I loved you, I believe, the first moment I 
saw you. I couldn't tell you for a long time. I was afraid 
to speak lest you should turn into a little bird and fly away. 
If you knew what all this means to me — if you knew — you 
wouldn't stand so far away and look so cold. 

GEORGINA (ha/f aside). 
Oh, it is impossible to be more unhappy. My heart is 
like aching ice. 



36 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ST. ASAPH. • 

I have told you the truth — the sincere, terrible truth, 
which almost frightens me. You are all I care for in this 
world. I adore you, dearest, I adore you ! How long have 
we known each other? 

GEORGINA. 

Why? 

ST. ASAPH. 

I want to know whether you remember. 

GEORGINA. 

Six months, four days, and seven hours ! Oh, you do 
love me, don't you ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

I think of you always. I see you always. I hear you al- 
ways. I would be with you always. I have loved you al- 
ways, and I will love you always ! 

GEORGINA {forgetting her instructions). 
Oh, we are too happy ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

I know that if men deserved happiness, they would bear 
it better . . . Darling, you had a very nice way of putting 
your face against mine. This always happened when you 
looked over my shoulder to read the Spectator. (Sits down.) 

GEORGINA (going behind him and putting her face against 
his). 
I was so fond of the Spectator ! 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 37 

ST. ASAPH. 

Yes, one is ... I remember I used to think what a pity 
it was that the Spectator came out only once a week ! 

GEORGINA. 

What a pity it is that no one can know how truly happy 
we are ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

Ah, there is that fatal desire which all women have to ex- 
cite envy. Is it not sufficient for us to be here alone, out of 
the world's reach ? To me this would be but half a blessing 
were it not a kind of secret— a hidden life between our- 
selves. 

GEORGINA. 

Perhaps. Yet, I think it rather selfish. It would encour- 
age the others if they could see a really fortunate marriage. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Ah, you don't know human nature as well as I know it. 

GEORGINA {with a look of terror). 
Ah! 

ST. ASAPH. 

What is the matter ? 

GEORGINA. 

Why did you speak of human nature ? I was just forget- 
ting- it. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Why do you have these sudden caprices ? You are en- 
chanting—then, suddenly, you say unheard-of things! 



38 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

GEORGINA. 
Conscience re-asserts itself. 

ST. ASAPH. 

You are much too young to have a conscience. There is 
something on your mind. A moment ago you were per- 
fect, and now . . . 

GEORGINA. 

That was false happiness. I knew it could not last. 
There was not enough discipline about it. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Better a false happiness than a real misery. I cannot 
understand you. 

GEORGINA. 

I suppose you wish me to be meretricious. 

ST. ASAPH. 

I want you to be yourself. 

GEORGINA. 

. Then see me as I am. I must be honest. 

ST. ASAPH. 

This is not you as you are. What has caused this mood ? 
You know the story of my life. Our family has been dis- 
tinguished for its wretched marriages. I represent the 
seventh generation and I want the luck to change. In you 
I see my one hope. You, my dearest, can alter all things 
for me. But never try to alter yourself. 

GEORGINA. 

Which is worse — the good that does evil, or the evil that 
does good ? 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 39 

ST. ASAPH. 

What a strange question ! Why do you think of such 
enigmas ? 

GEORGINA. 

Because I want to keep your love for ever, and I don't 
know how to keep it. 

ST. ASAPH. 

I see that some one has been talking to you. {She re- 
mains silent.) They have all been talking to you— these 
brainless, heartless, overfed, and under-educated women. 
I abhor them. They rush about making young wives miser- 
able with their infernal advice. I won't have one of them 
cross my threshold ! 

GEORGINA. 

I try to be civil to every one. I listen to every one. But 
I also know when to say " I wilt and I must." Yes, you 
can trust me. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Still, you don't explain. . . . Have you changed in some 
way ? You seem another woman — quite as pretty, . . . 
but . . . 

GEORGINA. 

Perhaps I have changed a little. 

ST. ASAPH {studying her). 
There is something. ... It must be your hair. Ah, that 
is it, of course. 

GEORGINA. 
Do you like it this way ? 



40 T H H \V I § D O U O F T 1 1 E YV I SE 

ST. asaph {in doubt). 
I can't be sure ... yet^ 

GEORGINA. 

Tell me, are my aunt and uncle happy ? Are Kate and 
Ada happy ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

One at a time ! Aunt and uncle respect each other. 
Ralph and Ada respect society. Kate and Tommie respect 
the devil ! 

GEORGINA. 

Is Ralph kind to Ada? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Oh, he tries to make her happy in a grave, long-winded 
way. You've read that book of his — Twilights in Turkey 
— haven't you ? 

GEORGINA. 

But Bertram says she gets on better with Kate's husband, 
Tommie Bistern. 

ST. ASAPH {annoyed). 
Bistern belongs to the old Eton set, brilliant and careless, 
full of gentlemanly dare-devil, that's all. Ada may find him 
more amusing than Ralph. 

GEORGINA. 

Then why is she so bitter always ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Because she was beautiful and poor, and she thought she 
would mend matters by being beautiful and rich. She is 
what people call a disappointed woman. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 41 

GEORGINA. 

Hush ! She will hear us. 
(GEORGINA moves away to the sofa as Ada enters.) 

ADA. 

Dear Sydney — I suppose I may call you Sydney now. 
Georgina is too young to understand all that she has in 
gaining your love. But I am sure she will always do her 
best to. deserve it. She is most ambitious. 

ST. ASAPH {surprised). 
Ambitious ! Ambitious people are always easily bored. 
Their minds, I suppose, are restless. I know that Georgina 
is clever, but I never thought 

ADA. 

She takes such a childish delight, for the moment, in her 
new title ! 

ST. ASAPH {imhappy}. 
The title ! She cares nothing about it. 

ADA. 

Of course she does ! I daresay she feels lonely among 
us, but Bertram is here. She is very fond of Bertram. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Bertram Romney ? 

ADA. 

Yes. You know that he was in Paris for two years learn- 
ing French. He was dreadfully in love with her, poor fel- 
low ! I don't know that she encouraged him. . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

Very natural that she should like him ... her own 
cousin. 



42 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ADA. 
Nothing could be more natural. He is so good-looking, 
too. 

ST. ASAPH \c hanging the subject). 
I have seen little of you since your own marriage, Ada. 

ADA. 

Oh . . . that ... I shall never expect happiness again. 

ST. ASAPH. 

The wisest are those who can best adjust their disadvan- 
tages ! 

ADA. 

Oh, I don't believe a bit in the calm, unmoved man ! I 
think it is only that he doesn't show his feelings outwardly. 
I know you have had your share of trouble. It is in your 
face. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Why, I thought we all wore masks here, saying what we 
do not believe, eating and drinking things we do not want, 
and then abusing each other in good earnest. 
(Wuthering appears at door.) 

WUTHERING. 

Sydney, they want you to hear this. 

ST. ASAPH. 

All right, I'll come. 

{Georgina comes down from balcony as he goes out.) 

ADA. 

Well, mv dear ? 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 43 

GEORGINA {coming down). 
Oh, Ada, Sydney looks so unhappy. 

ADA. 

That, my dear, is the way a young man who has just been 
married ought to look. 

GEORGINA. 

But still, ours is a love match — we love each other. He 
loved me the first time he saw me. 

ADA. 

Men, my dear, after considering a woman for months, in- 
variably decide that they loved her at first sight. Of course 
I have always liked Sydney, although his enemies say that 
he is an intriguer. 

GEORGINA {indignantly) . 
An intriguer ! My husband an intriguer ! 

ADA. 

I don't say so. His enemies say so. 

GEORGINA. 

What else do his enemies say ? 

ADA. 

They used to say he was a flirt. I never could believe 
that he was as fickle as they thought. 

GEORGINA. 

Fickle ? 

ADA. 

The women pursued him. Was it his fault ? He was 
very rich, and the dernier cri among the Dukes ! And then 
there was that story. ... 



4| TftE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

GLORGINA. 
What story ? 

ADA. 

Oh, the usual story . . . about an undesirable person ! 

GEORGINA. 

Then, I wonder why he married me ? 

ADA. 

Because you were striking-, well brought up, and an heir- 
ess, and also, of course, because you happened to take his 
fancy. 

GEORGINA. 
I see. . . . 

ADA. 

I daresay he felt, too, that you were very much in love 
with him. Men pretend not to be touched by that kind of 
thing — but they are. 

GEORGINA {troubled). 
Do you think that I showed any marked preference for 
him ? 

ADA. 

Of course ! And it answered very well. It was the 
cleverest thing you could have done. 

GEORGINA. 

Clever ! Do you suppose that I thought . . . 

ADA. 

My dear child, of course, I don't say that you fished for 
him, but he happened to be just the kind of man who could 



TIZif, WISDOM OF THE WISE 45 

be caught by your particular manner. And you are his 
Ductless — isn't that sufficient? Come and play Bridge. 

GEORGINA. 

No, Vd rather hear Kate play. (Ad a follows Georgj.n \ 
off. St. Asaph and Appleford come down from dull ony, } 

ST. ASAPH. 

You don't seem yourself this evening. 

APPLEFORD. 

I am going abroad for a long time. 

ST. ASA"H.- 

The old passion for travel has come over you. 

APPLEFORD. 

I feel restless and dissatisfied here. I wish you hadn't 
married — you might have come with me. Why did you 
marry this year ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Well, unlike you, I wished to settle down. Besides, I am 
going in for politics. Men forget your existence when they 
no longer see you at the Carlton. I am heartily sick of 
globe-trotting now. I have done my share. 

APPLEFO-RD. 

You didn't really care about it. I often wonder how you 
came to start at all. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Well, I will tell you — it doesn't matter now. I was much 
cut up by a love affair. 



46 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

APPLEFORD. 
So I gathered at the time, although you said nothing. 

ST. ASAPH. 

She was a very beautiful girl— brilliant . . . 

APPLEFORD. 

Well connected ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Sound and commercial — distinguished but not smart. 

APPLEFORD {looking Up). 

I understand. What happened ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

She refused me. 

APPLEFORD. 

Refused you ! Impossible ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

She refused me. 

APPLEFORD. 

What reasons did she give ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

She loved some one else, she said. 

APPLEFORD. 

Simple ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

She left England. I was wretched for months, and then 
— I suppose — I got cured. I am happy now — perfectly 
happy, at all events. I regret nothing. {Sighs.) Why in 
the world don't you marry ? Are you fickle ? Are you un- 
willing — are you— mortgaged? 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 4? 

APPLEFORD. 

Yes, in a way. I met a girl five years ago. . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

Oh, I see. . . . 

APPLEFORD. 

Excuse me, you don't ! I was a younger son, then — 
writing articles which were never accepted and living on my 
hopes of the great book which I have never yet written ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

But no one else has written it, either. 

APPLEFORD. 

The girl was an heiress — so, what was the use ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Still there was no harm in trying. 

APPLEFORD. 

I thought that — and I tried. She was a proud sort of 
girl ; but, mind you, I admire her pride, I approve of her 
line, I adore her inconsistency, and 1 can even t forgive her 
obstinacy. I still like her better than any woman in the 
world. 

ST. ASAPH. 

I take it, then, that your offer didn't come to anything? 

APPLEFORD. 

I was devoted to her. I spent days without amusement, 
and nights without sleep. 

ST. ASAPH. 

One knows when one is in earnest. Your fate may quar- 
rel with you, but she remains your fate. 



48 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

APPLEFORD. 

The girl certainly led me on. For instance, she looked 
up all the references in my History of Bysantitie Mosaics. 
{Picks up volume from the table.} 

ST. ASAPH. 

Kind, but scarcely impassioned ! 

APPLEFORD. 

Every afternoon we took flowers to Shelley's grave. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Perhaps she didn't mean it seriously. 

APPLEFORD. 

But she was so congenial. We might have been the 
Brownings. As it was, we had a remarkable correspond- 
ence. Ajiyhow, I spoke my mind before we parted. It was 
in Rome. . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

Moonlight . . . ruins in the distance ! 

APPLEFORD. 

Oh no, it was at the railway station— in the morning. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Well, I myself have never yet seen moonlight at the right 
moment. 

APPLEFORD. 

I told her she was a flirt, and I cursed her beastly money. 
Her two aunts made all the mischief. She believed in me. I 
know. But they persuaded her that I was an insincere, 
mercenary ruffian, self-seeking, and all the rest. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISK 49 

• ST. ASAPH. 
A silly mistake, because if a man wants to marry an heir- 
ess there are any amount of 'em, and he needn't put himself 
out for one more than another. 

APPLEFORD. 

Her aunts kept on their devilish cackle and won the day. 

ST. ASAPH. 

I suppose she has settled down by this time ? 

APPLEFORD. 

No, that's the strange thing. I haven't seen her for three 
years, but I hear she has promised all her fortune to some 
Convent, and, although many fellows have been in love with 
her, she snubs them all. 

ST. ASAPH. 

And you say she is good-looking ? 

APPLEFORD. 

Lovely. I shall never marry any one else. I really fan- 
cied that one, and I" hate being beaten. I compare other 
women with her ; some run her pretty close : some, I dare- 
say, beat her in minor points. But she suited me. 

ST. ASAPH. 

What's the good, then, of your settling down with some 
charming girl in a half-hearted, absent-minded way? 

APPLEFORD. 

I might dare to propose, and I should deserve to be 
refused. Now vou have my view. 



50 THE WISDOM OF THE -WJSE 

ST. ASAPH. 

She could not have been an ordinary woman. Wouldn't 
it be strange if we were both speaking of the same one ? 

APPLEFORD. 

That is scarcely possible. What was the name . . . 
(Footman enters followed by Amabel East.) 

footman {announcing). 
Miss East. {He goes out.) 

APPLEFORD. 

Good God ! 

ST. ASAPH (going forward). 
Miss East ! 

AMABEL (with a strong effort). 
It is a long time since we met. Didn't you know that I 
was in Paris with Georgina ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

I didn't know. 

(Georgina enters.) 

GEORGINA (coming forward.) 
Oh, Amabel, so you have come back. Sydney, this is my 
surprise. I told you I expected a friend. 

ST. ASAPH. 

A charming one. We have met before. 

(Lady Chale and Ada come on fro7ii balcony.) 

GEORGINA. 

Amabel, let me present Lord Appleford. Lord Apple- 
ford, this is my great friend, Miss East. 

' (APPLEFORD boWS.) 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 5 1 

AMABEL. 

It is foolish of me, but ... I am rather tired . . . I . . . 
I . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

Is that the girl ? 

APPLEFORD. 

That is the girl ! 

(Amabel falls in a swoon) 

End of the First Act. 



52 

ACT II 

Scene : The Blue Saloon. Mrs. Bistern is just finish- 
ing the Perosi. She rises, stands by door leading into 
Pink Saloon and drops her handkerchief. She comes 
down to sofa and seats herself as Wuthering enters 
front Pink Saloon. 

KATE. 

We can talk a minute here. 

wuthering (seating himself). 
I could desire nothing better. 

KATE. 

The delight of escaping from those parochial minds and 
. mechanic spirits ! 

WUTHERING. 

Such petty interests ! Are they conceivable ? 

KATE. 

And as for Tommie, he is so tiresome . . . 

WUTHERING (severely, holding up his hand). 
Kate, remember our rule. I never discuss Ada with you. 
You never discuss Tommie with me. 



T lK WISDOM OF THE WISE 53 

KATE. 
Well, then, as for Georgina. 

WUTHERING. 

Georgina is not subtle. 

KATE. 

Is she a companion for a man ? 

WUTHERING. 

Could she understand the union of two human souls in a 
singularly perfect friendship ? 

KATE. 

Never ! 

WUTHERING. 

I rather tremble for her future. 

KATE. 

It will be very difficult for Sydney. 

WUTHERING. 

Poor Sydney ! 

KATE. 

Georgina ministers wholly to the weaker side in human 
nature. 

WUTHERING. 

Her effect is to make one, if not sad, at least dissatisfied. 

KATE. 

She always expresses the ordinary thought. 

WT'THKRING. 

Poor Svdnev ' 



54 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

KATE. 
By the by, do you like this gown ? 

WUTHERING. 

Somehow, it doesn't speak to me . . . yet. 

KATE (in agony). 
Oh, don't say that. What is wrong with it ? 

WUTHERING. 

I will write to you on the subject. I have, for the mo- 
ment, but an impression — still inarticulate. 

KATE. 

I long for the letter. ... All the same, meanwhile, could 
you decide whether you care for these new skirts ? 

WUTHERING. 

They may influence me beyond their merits. Give me 
time. 

KATE. 

Is it the colour ? 

WUTHERING. 

I cannot judge of colour in this mood {plaintively). I 
used to like mauve. 

KATE. 

Do you prefer, perhaps, a mauve with more pink about it ? 

WUTHERING. 

Don't press me to formulate the slight change in my feel- 
ings ! 

KATE. 

But I am so anxious. 



THE WISDOM Of the wise 5$ 

WUTHERING (pressing her hand). 
This gives me a deeper experience of your helpfulness. . 

KATE. 

Dear Ralph ! It is because I never trouble you with the 
personal equation. 

WUTHERING. 

Possibly. A condition of enjoyment in the little things of 
life is— that one should be above the immediate conditions of 
time and place and person. (He goes up stage and peers 
cautiously •round.) 

KATE (hanging on his words). 
Yes. . . . 

WUTHERING. 

Here come Ada and Aunt. I will go. It sickens me to 
hear conventional conversation after yours. 

KATE (with admiration). 
You are so fine ! 

WUTHERING. 

You spoil me ! 

(He goes out as Lady Chale and ADA enter.) 

■ ADA. 

Oh, what an excitement ! (To Kate.) You don't know 
what you have missed. 

LADY CHALE. 

I was there and saw the whole thing. The girl was per- 
fectly self-possessed until she caught sight of ♦ . . 



56 THE-' WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ADA. 
Sydney ! 

LADY CHALE. 

She took one look . . . and, as for him— my dear, he 

was ghastly ! 

KATE. 

But how thrilling ! 

ADA. 

We must find out what this means. 

KATE. 

It's too quaint ! But whom are you talking about ? 

ADA. 

Amabel East. Georgina is still with her in the boudoir. 
Let us go and see what we can make of her. 

( They all go off as St. Asaph and APPLEFORD enter:) 

APPLEFORD. 

Now I hear that she is well, I must go. It would be out- 
rageous to remain. 

ST. ASAPH. 

1 think her agitation was a good sign— for you. She was 
sentimental — but not at all given to scenes. 

appleford {pacing the fioor in agitation). 
1 know that. 

ST. ASAPH. 

But the unexpectedness of the meeting would have tried 
any girl of nice feelings. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 57 

APPLEFORD. 

And she — she is so sensitive. 

ST. ASAPH. 

1 don't pretend to understand women, yet I cannot forget 
her words when she refused me. She said— 4i J have had 
bin one love in my life, and that will live while I live." 

appleford {moved). 

Did she say that ? It sounds very like, her— a noble melan- 
choly ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

She must be a brick, too. in other ways. I had no idea 
that she and Georgina were such friends. Yet I am certain 
she has never given GeOrgina a hint of our old affair. Pre- 
cious few women could have resisted a hint Do you think 
I ought to tell Georgina myself ? 

APPLEFORD. 

Why make her miserable for nothing and spoil their friend- 
ship ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

You are quite right. It would be idiotic. 

APPLEFORD. 

The most generous women are never reasonable in such 
matters. 

ST. ASAPH, 

No, my poor father used to say— Beware of your wife when 
she listens to reason. It will mean that she is sick to death 
of you. (Szgks.) I wish all the same . 



58 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

APPLEFORD. 

But perversity is so charming. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Yes, yes, I know. . . . I am thinking of the possible time 
when I would rather be quiet than be charmed. That time 
does come. 

APPLEFORD. 

Don't meet trouble half way ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

That's the very thing to do ! my dear fellow — meet it half 
way and send it back ! Therefore I will not encourage per- 
versity in Georgina. But — as for Amabel — surely, you in- 
tend to follow this up ? {Inclines his head toward the inner 
room.) You won't lose the opportunity ? 

APPLEFORD. 

It's awkward, all the same. You see, I did propose a 
week after I came into the property. She still refused. I 
have done quite enough to prove my affection. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Well, you haven't married. 

APPLEFORD. 

1 \von't say that I haven't considered several . . . ideas. 
There was one I met at Bayreuth. She was very piquante. 
But there was something lacking. 

ST. ASAPH. 

What? 

APPLEFORD. 

She talked too well. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 59 

ST. ASAPH. 

That is most fatiguing ! 

APPLEFORD. 

Then I met a young widow at Munich. Figure was the 

strong point there. She had a good walk. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Did that come to anything? 

APPLEFORD. 

We walked together in the woods about three hours 
every morning for a week. Once, when she stumbled over 
a log and caught hold of my arm, I fancied she was mag- 
netic. Now that doesn't do. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Why not? 

APPLEFORD. 

Magnetism affects the judgment. Judgment is required 
in a historian. I left Munich that very day. . ..-,. No, Ama- 
bel has spoiled me for all others, and that's the; plain fact. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Still, make one more attempt. 

APPLEFORD. 

Oh, I wouldn't mind any rebuff if I had the least hope. 
I can't see it. 

ST. ASAPH. 

How well you can manage a woman when you under- 
stand her, but no longer love her ! Now she may imagine 
that you wished to give her old aunts the lie — and, as she's 
deuced proud ... 



6o l'HE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

APPLEFORD. 

Oh, don't you think that every woman knows by instinct, 
when a man is sincere ? I had schooled myself to live with- 
out her. Now that I have seen her a^ain, those vears of 
discipline go for nothing, i can I ijc cured, a. id i. fere s an 
end of it. 

ST. ASAPH. 

What is your next move ? 

APPLEFORD. 
1 shall go abroad. 

ST. ASAPH. 

You are playing the very devil with your career.. 

APPLEFORD. 

1 know myself. Nature ever takes her revenge if you 
fight her too hard. No, my one hope lies in wandering. I 
can't sit down and brood. 

(Footman enters announcing) 
Mrs. Lynton and Mrs. Lupton Milles. 
(Mrs. Lynton and Mrs. Lupton Milles enter. Foot- 
man ^^^ oict, ) 

MRS. LYNTON. 
Lord Appleford . . . and my dear Duke . . . {Recover- 
ing) My niece has sent for us. We are in the greatest 
anxiety. We leave for Russia to-morrow. Amabel never 
changes her plans. 

APPLEFORD. 

You leave to-morrow ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

Will Miss East be well enough ? 



THE \YiSJ>n.\i OF THE VVISK 
MRS. LYNTON. 

She must be well 'enough. Where is she ? Where is the 
child ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

She is with my wife. 

MRS. LYNTON. 

Then take me to her at once. Fanny, you stay here. 
You know you always excite her. 

(She goes out iviih St. Asaph.) 

MRS. I.UPTON MILLES {looking cautiously round). 
Lord Appleford, have you seen her ? 

APPLEFORD. 

I was present when — when she fell. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

I have always been on your side. She is full of nonsense 
and wants a good shaking — nothing else in the world. The 
offers she has refused — the rubbish she talks ! I have no 
patience with her. She has no heart. 

APPLEFORD. 

Sometimes I am driven to think so. I cannot understand 
her. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 
One word. Will you come to our hotel — the Cosmopoli- 
tan—to-night ? Ask for me. I can consult with you. 

APPLEFORD. 
But I would not risk giving her any annoyance. 



62 THii .VISDOM OF THE WISE 

MRS. LUPTON MUXES. 

Rely upon me. I must consult with you. Imust. 

APPLEFORD. 

Very well. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. . 

This illness may be worry. You remember her pride — it 
is majestic. If she knew that I had told you — she would 
kill me. ( /,, 

APPLEFORD. 

You may depend upon me. I will be at your hotel to- 
night. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Come in an hour's time. 

APPLEFORD. 

Without fail. 

{Enter St. Asaph.) 

ST. ASAPH. 

She is much better. She will come here in a few moments. 

APPLEFORD. 

Could I write a few letters in the library? I suppose you 
won't be going to the Merediths just yet ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

The carriage has been ordered for twelve. 
(Appleford bows and goes out.) 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Isn't he a nice man ? I don't know when I have seen a 
nicer. . . . Oh, do use your influence with my niece. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 63 

ST. ASAPH. 
In what way ? 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Make her see that it is her duty to marry Lord Appleford. 
The two are cut out for each other. Her lackadaisical ideas 
are just what he requires. They are so softening ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

What you say is very good and very true in its way, but 
it isn't my business. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Oh. don't say that, my dear Duke. Nothing in this 
world is one's business— unless one makes it so. 

ST. ASAPH. 

What could I do ? 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

You could say a few words. Tell her that ApplHord's 
career depends upon her love. That won't be true;, i know, 
because men's careers seem to go on whether one loves 
them or whether one doesn't. But $QUi}g women doWke to 
think they are important. It's very natural. 

ST. ASAPH. 

And very true, too. Besides. I have a conviction, myself, 
that Miss East would make Appleford the best of wives. I 
will do what I can for you— I will indeed. A man doesn't 
like to interfere in his friends' private affairs— particularly 
where a. lady is in question, but in this case ... 



64 HE V. 1SDOM OF THE WISE 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

It would be a good work — a noble work. Thank you! 
thank you ! And now may I go to Lord Appleford ? 1 
have a little more to say to him. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Certainly. 

{She goes out as Amabel and Georgina enter.) 

AMABEL. 

I thought my aunt was here. 

ST. ASAPH. 

She will be back directly. She is with Appleford. . . . 

AMABEL. 

With Appleford ... 

GEORGINA. 
Oh, Sydney, will you get my ruby bracelet? I left it 
either in the billiard-room or on the piano. And will you 
tell Mrs. Lynton— who is with Aunt — that Amabel is wait- 
ing ? 

' (St. As aph goes out reluctantly.) 

georgina {turning to Amabel). 
I am sure you are unhappy, Amabel. 

AMABEL. 

But you, too, seem a little depressed. 

GEORGINA. 
I cannot ".r.derstand men. 



THE W I S D O \ I OF THE WISE 65 

AMABEL. 

Surely the Duke is frankness itself. 

GEORGINA. 

That isn't the difficulty. 

AMABEL. 

What then ? 

GEORGINA. 

1 am the difficulty. They tell me I shall bore him. What 
do you think ? Wouid he endure me longer if I swore like 
Ada, painted like Kate, kicked as high as Lady Diver, sang 
the songs of Mrs. Looter, wore the clothes of Nellie Dagen- 
ham, and betted like Laura de Trappe ? 

AMABEL. 

But these creatures are merely successful with other 
women's husbands. 

GEORGINA. 

Ah, Amabel, when you yourself are married, you will see 
the position more clearly. 

AMABEL. 

Haven't I told you that I refused the one man I ever 
loved ? 

GEORGINA. 

Why were you so stupid ? 

AMABEL. 

I listened to advice. I was just out of school. I knew 
no better. 

GEORGINA. 
Who was he, Amabel ? 



66 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

AMABEL. 

Don't ask me that. He would hate to have it known. 

GEORGINA. 

- Was he handsome ? 

AMABEL. 

Better than handsome. He had genius. 

GEORGINA {disappointed). 
Oh, ... I see. 

AMABEL {hastily). 
He didn't look like one, however. 

GEORGINA {cheerfully). 
I'm glad of that — for your sake. 

AMABEL. 

He dressed simply awfully well. 

GEORGINA {naively). 
Do other people call him a genius ? 

AMABEL. 

You see, he isn't dead yet. He's v»ry coming. 

GEORGINA. 

Then can't you make it up ? 

AMABEL. 

Impossible, darling, impossible. He no longer loves me. 
The one feeling left is pity. And as for me — all I have left 
is pride. 

GEORGINA. 
Is there no chance of your meeting again? 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 67 

AiMABEL. 
I hope not. Once I was everything to him. Now I 
I should be an embarrassment. And now, here is the little 
photograph you asked for. I was forgetting it. {Gives her 
small photograph in gold case.) 

GEORGINA {taking it). 
Oh, it is you ! An excellent likeness. But rather sad. 
{Puts it on table by her side.) 

AMABEL {sighing). 
Think of me sometimes, won't you, dear Georgina ? 

GEORGINA. 

I shan't be happy till you have made friends again with 
this— this handsome man {checks off each phrase on her 
fingers), who is also a genius, and also smart. Fancy ! A 
smart genius. Oh, you are a lucky girl ! 

(St. Asaph enters, looking curiously from one to 
the other.) 

ST. ASAPH. 

I can't find the bracelet. v 

GEORGINA. 

Don't tell me I have lost it. Your present— the one with 
the rubies. I must look myself . . . stay with Amabel. I 
must find it. 

{She goes out quickly.) 

AMABEL. 

It is a great happiness to see that you are so fortunate in 
your marriage. 



68 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ST. ASAPH. 

You are right. I am indeed fortunate, and so happy that 
I am almost afraid to realise it. But you— Miss East, may 
I take a friend's privilege and tell you that . . . that . . . 

AMABEL {quickly). 
Wait. Are you about to speak of Lord Appleford ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Yes. 

AMABEL. 

Then spare yourself and me much grief. No doubt you 
have guessed — by my foolish emotion this evening — that he 
is the one whom I once told you . . . {trying to laugh). 
You remember Browning's lines. . . . " It once might have 
been, once only ..." {Dries her eyes.) 

ST. ASAPH. 

I must have some conversation with you — I must {earn- 
estly). It concerns the welfare of the two friends I most 
care for in this world. 

AMABEL. 

I am leaving for Russia early in the morning. 

ST. ASAPH. 

In the morning, then may I call and see you to-night ? 
My wife and I are going to a ball. I could get away for half 
an hour and call at your hotel. I must see you. 

AMABEL [puzzled). 

Why? 

ST. ASAPH. 

I can answer that when you have heard all I have to say. 



iE WISDOM oE THE WISE 69 

AMABEL. 

This is puzzling, but ... 

ST. ASAPH. 

Surely you trust me ? 

AMABEL. 

Of course. I was not thinking of myself ; I was thinking 
of you. Does Georgina understand — does she know ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

She must never know. But, if she might know, she 
would understand perfectly. ' 

AMABEL. 

More and more mysterious. I will see you. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Very well. You may expect me about half-past twelve. 

AMABEL. 

Ask for my sitting-room, No. 61. 

ST. ASAPH, 

Thank you. 

AMABEL. 

Hush ! Who is that on the balcony ? 

(Mrs. Wuthering appears^ 

ST. ASAPH. 

It is Ada. 

AMABEL. 

Did she hear? 



yo THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ST. ASAPH. 
I don't know. 

ADA (coming down). 

Are you better, Miss East ? 

AMABEL. 

Thank you, I am much better. My aunts came for me, 
and now they seem to have disappeared. 

ADA. 

1 met one a moment ago with Lord Appleford ; the other, 
I fancy, is with Lady Chale. 

ST. ASAPH {exchanging glances with AMABEL). 
She was in the hall, wasn't she ? 

ADA (innocently). 
Yes, at the foot of the stairs. 

AMABEL. 

Then I will meet her. Good-night, Duke. 

ST. ASAPH. 

I will take you to your carriage. 

AMABEL. 

Thank you. That is very kind. 

( They go out.) 

:; ADA (calling). 

Ralph ! (He comes in.) What do you say to this ? 
Sydney has just made an appointment to call on Miss East 
at her hotel to-night. 

WUTHERING. 

Impossible ! 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 7 1 

ADA. 
I heard him, by accident, with my own ears. I happened 
to come in the very nick of time. He said, " At half-past 
twelve." She said, ■■ Ask for my sitting-room, No. 61." 
Miss East, I feel certain, is the brilliant girl with the im- 
possible family we all heard about long ago. 

WUTHERING. 

I hope to God he won't get into a scandal ! Just think 
how it would please all his friends ! 

{Enter Lady Chale, Bistern and Romney. Wither- 
ing and Bistern go to the back.) 

LADY CHALE. 

Are you coming, Ada ? The carriage is here. I must go 
for half an hour to the Merediths'. Why do really nice 
people give balls ? One has to go. 

ROMNEY. 

I intend to walk. 

ADA. 

Send the carriage back for me. Georgina isn't quite 
ready. 

LADY CHALE. 

Very well. 
(Lady Chale goes out with Romney. Bistern ana* 
Wuthering come down.) 

bistern. 
This is an awkward thing about Sydney, ain't it ? {He 
and Ada exchange a long glance.) Ralph has just told 
me. But who would have thought, eh ? 



J2 THE WISDOM OF THE Wi ^E 

ADA. 

For Heaven's sake, say nothing more. I must think of 
the right course to adopt. 

WUTHERING. 

Are you going to make a lot of mischief, Ada? 

ADA. 

I am going to use my judgment. 

WUTHERING. 

Then there is no hope for either of them ! 

ADA {piling her lip). 
It is a mercy that I am not sensitive ! 

WUTHERING. 

I domt mean to be disagreeable, Ada. You ought to 
know me by this time. 

ADA. 

Of course, I know you. But it is amusing to be surprised 
now and again ! 

WUTHERING/ 

If you hadn't such a sharp tongue ! 

ADA. 

Can't you see that I am "worried? 
(Wuthering moves away — Kate appears on balcony?) 

BISTERN. 
Be very careful in all this, won't you ? "It is never worth 
while to stir up comment. 

ADA. 

I must speak my mirtd. 



.iE WISDOM Ob THE WISE 73 

Bl STERN. 
• Don't do that. When one speaks one's mind, one is 
always certain to say something disagreeable. 

ADA. 

} '011 needn't complain. I am never disagreeable to you. 
You understand me. 

B I STERN {in ah r agony as Kate and WUTHERING come 
doion a Utile). 
Not so loud ! 
{He joins Kate at back as Wuthering comes down .) 

WUTHERING. 

I can't see that you are worried. 

ADA {bitterly?). 
But you never see anything ! Sometimes I wonder if you 
even see me. The other day you were not sure about the 
colour of my eyes. You thought they were grey. 

WUTHERING. 

When one is sure of a woman one is able to consider the 
colour of her eyes, but if one doubts her heart one has no 
time to think about her face. 

ADA {pleased). 
Have you doubted my heart, Ralph ? 

WUTHERING. 

Always. 

Al \. 

Perhaps I could explain. . . . No, I owe you much, but 
1 owe my own pride more. Vou may doubt and doubt ! 



74 --" WISDOM OF THE WISE 

WUTHERING. 

You make a grave mistake. Doubt in my mind soon be- 
comes certainty one way or the other. I am no dreamer of 
dreams. 

ADA. 

One would think so — to hear you talk to Kate. You moon 
about together till people positively notice it ! 

WUTHERING. 

You know perfectly well that mooning is not in my line. 
Kate thinks of nothing but her hats and gowns. O, how 
she bores me ! 

ADA. 

Then, why don't you tell her so ? 

WUTHERING. 

Because she isn't my wife— that's why ! 

ADA. 

Exactly. . . . How I wish she could hear you ! What a 

fesson ! 

WUTHERING. 

if you would show this interest in me oftener . . . 

ADA. 

Interest? You flatter yourself. It is merely criticism— 
dispassionate criticism. With all your faults, you are a 
man. I hate to see you make yourself ridiculous. 

WUTHERING. 

I wonder whether you are like this Miss East — playing a 
double sort of game. You women are so infernally sly! 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 75 

ADA. 

ii you really cared . . . 

WUTHERING. 

Care ! You do not love me. It is clear that you have no 
wish to obey me, but you shall at least respect me. 
(He goes out. Ada goes up and onto balcony as Kate and 
B 1 stern come down.) 

KATE. 

I feel so dreadfully upset. I shan't sleep to-night. My 
nerves are all on edge. 

BISTERN. 

Lying awake does no good. I make it a point never to 
lie awake. 

KATE. 

You have no soul, Tommie. It is so silly, to be so silly as 
you are. Such flippancy. 

BISTERN. 

I am not flippant, and I won't stand your saying that. I 
simply won't ! You love to hurt my feelings. 

KATE. 

You see, / haven't Ada's sweet disposition! I am sure 
the way you smiled at her at dinner — well ! — I know she 
thinks you are madly in love with her. 

BISTERN. 

My dear, you are full of fancies. You think that every 
other woman sees me with your eyes ! 

KATE. 

On the contrary, I wish they did ! 



76 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

BISTERN. 

That's a most unwomanly — unwifelike remark. 

KATE. 

1 didn't mean it — altogether. If you behaved as well as 
you look, you'd be an angel. But, as it happens, you are a 
trial. 

BISTERN. 

V/hose fault is that? 

KATE. 

I believe you are every bit as deceitful as Sydney — I hate 
men ! No, don't answer me. Men have no sense of justice ! 
Don't follow me ! 

{She flounces out as APPLEFORD enters) 

BISTERN {to APPLEFORD). 

Isn't it a pity that such a pretty woman has such a ten- 
dency to — to . . . tantrums ? 

{He follows Kate. Ada enters from opposite side) 

APPLEFORD. 

Don't you think we ought to start now ? Where's Syd- 
ney ? 

ADA {coming down). 

Oh, my dear Appleford ... My dear, dear Appleford ! 
Men don't know each other in the least. 

APPLEFORD. 

We prefer to study you— not each other. 

ADA. 

Wait till you hear my news. You know Miss East ? 



Yes. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE JJ 

applefgrd; 

ADA. 



You know that St. A.sap:i once fell in love with su.iu; 
brilliant girl with an impossible family ? 

APPLEFORD. 

We all do that. 

ADA. 

[ suppose you do. Well, I have found out that Miss 
East is the woman. 

APPLEFORD. 

Indeed. 

ADA. 

And St. Asaph is going to see her to-night at her hotel it 
half-past twelve. 

APPLEFORD. 

How do you know that ? 

ADA. 

Never mind. I do know it. Isn't it too disgraceful ? 
And she pretends to be such friends with poor Georgian. 
And Georgina is so nice to her. Oh, it's horrid ! 

APPLEFORD. 

So you think he is going to see her to-night at half-past 
twelve ? 

ADA. 

I am sure of it. 



yS THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

APPLEFORD. 

You will find that it is all light. 

ADA. 

Of course. But does it look wel\ 

APPLEFORD. 

You may depend that they do not realise that the meeting 
will be generally known. Are you coming with us to the 
Merediths' ? 

ADA. 

I am waiting for Georgina. And I must put on my neck- 
lace. 
{She goes out. Wuthering and Bistern come down.) 

BISTERN. 

Don't go, Appleford. 

APPLEFORD. 

What is the matter ? 
( The three men stand in a row. WUTHERING and BlSTER.M 
look most dejected^) 

WUTHERING. 

I can't help thinking that Ada has made a mistake. 

BISTERN. 

Oh, St. Asaph may have been fond of the woman once, 
and it is the old, old story of one more long last Goodbye, 
etcetera, etcetera. 

WUTHERING. 

Never. That isn't his line at all. He knows the world 
too well. If it is anything, it is something devilish impor- 
tant. What do you think, Appleford. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 79 

APPLEFORD. 

I think it's very natural. 

WUTHERING. 

Natural ! To play the fool . . . already ? 

BISTERN. 

Could there be any reason ? 

APPLEFORD. 

Reason ! A fool can give more reasons for his folly than 
a saint can urge for his wisdom. We have rive senses, but 
only one conscience. That explains everything. The game 
is unequal. 

BISTERN. 

All the same, would you go in for this kind of thing ? 

APPLEFORD. 

Well, if I really wanted to see a . . . lady, I should go 
and see her. I feel bound to admit that. I should go. 

BISTERN. 

If it comes to that, so should I. 

WUTHERING. 
Then why are we pitching into St. Asaph ? 

APPLEFORD. 

Perhaps, because none of you are for the moment, suffi- 
ciently anxious to see any particular lady. You are not in 
sympathy with recklessness. 

BISTERN. 

Take care. Here is St. Asaph now. We might sound 
him a bit. Let us say things and watch his face. 



80 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

WUTHERING. 

We might take a confidential line and appear to give our- 
selves away. This will lead him on. It is only friendly to 
get at the truth and save him from himself. 

BISTERN. 

That's right. We must save him from himself. 
{Enter St. Asaph preoccupied.) 

BISTERN. 

We were just talking about Miss East. A pretty lady . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

She has got a great deal of character, too. Existence must 
be dreadful with her old aunties ! 

APPLEFORD. 

Women are better than men at this game ®f resignation. 

BISTERN. 

I suppose so. I can't understand it. 

appleford {watching St. Asaph). 

Say, you want a thing. You can't get it. Then you try 
to believe that it is not worth having. You pitch mud all 
day at the best hope of your life. Is that philosophy ? No 
wonder philosophers are mostly snarling or soured. 

ST. ASAPH. 

If I want a thing, I want it, and no one can persuade me 
against it. That's my way. 

APPLEFORD. 

But. one has to guard against mistakes. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE . 8l 

ST. ASAPH. 
Nor a bit of it. Risk mistakes. Take your chance — or 
even the odd chance. Too much caution is killing us all. 

WUTHERING. 

That was what I thought when I married. 

APPLEFORD. 

What then ? 

WUTHERING. 

Ada merely sulks. And why shouldn't she be contented ? 
She looks well, she understands food, and no one has a finer 
lot of diamonds. 

ST. ASAPH {sarcastically). 
What more could she desire ? 

BISTERN. 

You can laugh, but all the same, Ralph has done his best 
for her. He was ambitious till he married. Then he gave 
up his interest in everything. 

WUTHERING {bitterly). 
If you once fall in love you are lost. Goodbye to your 
career and your future. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Still a nice high-class woman can make a great difference. 

BISTERN. 

You must keep your head cool, that's all, and choose the 
one you like next best. 

ST. ASAPH. 

You cannot expect to find contentment in one interest 



82 THE WISDOM. OF THE WISE 

only— whether it be love or politics, or any other thing. The 
mind must spread about a bit, you know. 

BISTERN. 



Ralph does not know how to influence his wife. He' is 
too candid. 

ST. ASAPH. 

In what way, Bistern ? 

BISTERN. 

Take my case. How do I manage Kate ? If I wish her 
to do anything I urge every argument against it. This 
answers perfectly. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Does she ever get jealous ! 

BISTERN. 

Her jealousy is appalling. 

ST. ASAPH. 

It is never worth while to make a woman jealous. 
BISTERN. 

Ah ! But, suppose she finds you out ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

Find you out— as if she could — O, Tommie, you dog ! 

WUTHERING. 

When I show the least interest in Ada, she becomes im- 
possible. I pretend that she bores me to death. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 83 

ST. ASAPH. 

This commands her respect. If she once suspected that 
you would sooner be with her than any other woman, you 
could do nothing with her. But there ought to be more 
confidence between husband and wife. A little talk might 
put it all right. 

BISTERN. 

Yes, but what can you tell 'em ? They never understand. 

WUTHERING. 

I never talk to my wife about myself, but I tell her every- 
thing I hear about other people. 

ST. ASAPH. 

The trouble is that you and Ada are never natural. A 
girl may dance beautifully, she may be handsome, she may 
have a good figure, she may be plain, rich, poor, but she 
must be in sympathy with you. 

WUTHERING. 

What is sympathy ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Being Dored by the same things would come pretty near 
it in your case ! But, after all, hopeless love makes all the 
gaiety of the world ! 

APPLEFORD. 

I thought that marriage had cured your cynicism. 

ST. ASAPH. 

So it has. But if all lovers were happy, every couple 
would be wishing the rest out of the way ! Two happy 
beings always want the whole earth to themselves. On 



84 - aB WISDOM OF THE WISE 

the other hand, three unhappy people — even three — can 
keep the whole of London thoroughly entertained ! 

BISTERN. 

But one doesn't want these three people to be one's own 
relatives. 

ST. ASAPH. 

I don't think that either of you understand women in the 
least. {He points to Wuthering and BlSTERN.) 

BISTERN.. 

Do you mean to say . . . 

WUTHERING. 

That we . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

Yes, I do mean it. You are wrong — both of you. 

BISTERN. 

My dear Sydney ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

You see, women are like the quail — a little uncertain — 
that's all ! 

BISTERN {bitterly). 
Ah, well, in any case, the interest of women to a thinking 
man is over at thirty or thirty-five. 

ST. ASAPH. 

No matter how absorbed I might be in other things, I 
should always wonder what my wife was doing, or how she 
was. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 85 

WUTHERING. 

A natural belief. You are just married ! But I am de- 
voted to my wife, of course. 

BI STERN. 

We are all devoted to our wives. 

APPLEFORD. 

So far as I can make out, one marries, nowadays, chiefly 
to please other people ! 

WUTHERING. 

Well, I married to please myself. 

ST. ASAPH. 

We are all taking the selfish view, aren't we ? 

BISTERN. 

The riddle of the age is for each man the same, — 
" What is the best thing I can do with my life ? " 

APPLEFORD. 

It don't seem very inspiring. What about the woman's 
life? 

ST. ASAPH. 

She won't let you forget it. Don't be nervous. 
{Enter Footman with a card, which he gives to St. 
Asaph.) 

ST. ASAPH. 

Hullo ! this is from Bradgers — De Lisle Bradgers ! 
He asks for the favour of an interview. 

WUTHERING. 

Why De Lisle ? 



$6 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ST. ASAPH. 

Because he is, as he would say, the result of a hushed-up 
scandal in the very best society ! 

BISTERN. 

Fancy Bradgers ! You can't refuse. This means some- 
thing important. By Gad! he intends to run you. 

ST. ASAPH. 

I can't be uncivil, because I really like him. He is most 
amusing. I'll bring him up. 

{He goes off. Footman goes out. Appleford picks 
up a paper and reads it. WUTHERING and BISTERN 
come down.) 

WUTHERING. 

What do you think ? 

BISTERN. 

I can't make him out. Give it up, my boy. 

wuthering {quoting St. Asaph). 

" The mind must spread about a bit." " One interest in 
life ain't enough." 

BISTERN. 

That's what it comes to. Are you goin' to the Merediths' ? 

:j WUTHERING. 

We can just toddle round forsupper. I hope the quails 
will be hot. I hate cold quails. 

(They go out as St. Asaph and Bradgers enter.) 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 87 

BRADGERS {casually). 
I thought I might as well follow you up. {Seats himself.) 
Your carriage is at the door. Surely you are not going to 
the Merediths' ball. 

ST. asaph {meekly). 
I had some idea of it. 

BRADGERS. 

Give it up. Men who dance have no future. Should I 

' be where I am to-day, if I had been a dancing man ? I tell 

you, Duke, the country demands self-sacrifice. We must 

live like our Puritan fathers. We must say to the idols of 

to-day, " Out-talk us, out-vote us, shout us down, but we 

are the army of sober men to come." I want to hear you 

talk a little in this vein. Be the leader of the healthy party. 

By the by, can you tell me anything about Lord Appleford ? 

APPLEFORD {interrupting, and motioning the Duke to 

keep quief). 

I know a little about him. 

BRADGERS. 

I made Appleford. Appleford, till I brought him to the 
public notice, was never heard of. 

ST. ASAPH. 

I can quite believe it. 

BRADGERS. 

And I haven't done with him yet. I intend to use him as 
a vehicle for my ideas. 

APPLEFORD. 

Is he agreeable to this plan ? 



88 ■'■-. - - « m\ i 111^ WISE 

BRADGERS. 

Agreeable ! He will jump at it ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

Have you ever met him? 

BRADGERS. 

1 am to meet him next week. I never judge a man but 
out of his own mouth. 

APPLEFORD. 

That's one of my principles too. 

BRADGERS. 

But I have formed a mental picture of Appleford,. He 
will answer my purpose. We live in an age of democratic 
equality, but the slow intellectual movement of the masses is 
such that they still demand a peer — merely, in a vulgar 
phrase, "for the look of the thing." 

ST. ASAPH, 

Yet, as you were saying, those who have pledged them- 
selves not to talk have been made to talk. The interests of 
one class clash against the interests of another, but in the 
great result the people always mean right, and in the end 
they will have the right. (BRADGERS tries to get a word 
in.) And, as you were saying so admirably, we must turn 
our eyes from institutions to men. The penny pamphlet 
does more to govern this country than the House of Com- 
mons. People can never be made to stay and argue a long 
question. They must be made to feel it through the hides 
o.f their idols. Let the Times say, "This is madness." The 
penny pamphlet, edited by Lord Appleford, will reply, 
" What is defeat ? Nothing but education — nothing but the 
first step to something better." 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 8u 

bradgers {delighted'). 
It's really very good — uncommonly good. Where dki. I 
say that ? Can you remember the occasion ? 

ST. ASAPH. . . . 

I cannot tell. It is a mental picture of the kind — the kind 
of thing Applefprd might have managed under your immedi- 
ate inspiration. 

BRADGERS. 

Appleford ! Never ! Those words, those ideas are my 
own — absolutely my own. You cannot know Appleford, if 
you think he could rise to such truths under any one's inspi- 
ration. 

ST. ASAPH. 

But, Mr. Bradgers . . . 

appleford {good-naturedly) . 
Mr. Bradgers may be right. Has he not told us that he 
has never met Appleford ? 

BRADGERS. 

A man cannot get above the atmosphere in which he was 
born. Appleford is a hothouse plant. Why is he a mere 
mouthpiece ? Who can tell ? The Duke can't : he says he 
knows nothing about him. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Excuse me ... I . . . t 

BRADGERS (to APPLEFORD). 

You can't, for you know nothing about him. / can, be- 
cause I know everything about him. Why off his own bat. 



90 ^HE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

he couldn't say " boo " to a goose. {Growing confidential.) 
He's a little man. 

APPLEFORD. 

Oh, he's little, is he ? 

BRADGERS. 

Yes, a quiet, bald, gentle, little chap. My brother went to 
school with him. 

APPLEFORD. 

Quite a coincidence ! 

BRADGERS. 

At least, my brother remembers a sickly boy called Mor- 
pen, who was considered clever, and Morpen, you know, is 
the family name of the Applefords {confidentially). Now 
shall I tell you the chief danger in Applefords career ? 

ST. ASAPH. 
Do. 

BRADGERS. 

He speaks too plainly. This was well enough to begin 
with, but I hope he won't keep it up. 

ST. ASAPH. 

You mean political reputations are made by saying what 
you think, and they are kept by saying- what you don't 

think ! 

BRADGERS. 

You put it cynically — but . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

That's mere manner ! 



THE WISDOM OF THE. WISE 91 

BRADGERS {picking up portrait of Miss East). 

Hullo ! This is the beautiful Amabel East,- daughter of 
East and Holkers'. I know her aunt, Mrs. Lupton Milles. 

APPLEFORD. 

Indeed. 

BRADGERS. 

They go into very good society nowadays : one mee s 
them at the best houses. But Amabel won't marry. Her 
aunt, a delightful person, tells me that she has refused at 
least one prince — and often more — of every nationality. 

APPLEFORD {taking photograph). . . . . 
1 wonder why ! 

BRADGERS. 

An early attachment. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Does that seem reasonable ? 

BRADGERS. 

Her aunts think her mad on the subject. It seems she 
fell in love, some years ago, with this very man we have 
been speaking of — Appleford. 

APPLEFORD. 

No! 

* BRADGERS. 

Yes, my dear fellow, yes. Just imagine— a handsome 
young woman, with her money, going " dottie " on a little, 
musty, dried-up, stick-in-the-mud like Appleford! 



(j 2 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

APPLEFORD. 

Inconceivable ! 

BRADGERS. 

Appleford, of all men. Why, they tell me he is as blind as 
a bat from over-work, and where his heart ought to be there 
is a Byzantine Mosaic ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! I am going to call 
on Mrs. Lupton Milles this evening. What a nice woman ' 
She gives perfect little dinners— such mutton and the best 
claret in the world. I say to her, " Yes, I will dine with you, 
but give me something plain. A joint, a bird, a rice pud- 
ding." But now, Duke, can I have a few moments' private 
conversation ? 

APPLEFORD. 

I have to write some letters, but if at any time I can be of 
service to you, Mr. Bradgers, in your noble propaganda, pray 
command me. 

BRADGERS. 

That's very sweet of you ! 

(Appleford goes out.) 

BRADGERS. 

An intelligent person, that. Your -secretary, I presume ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

He's a friend of mine ... a ... a journalist, in fact — 
he writes leading articles and essays for the learned re- 
views. 

BRADGERS. 

Ah, I'm rather sorry to hear it. The taint of journalism 
must corrupt one in time, and he has an open face — a very 
open face. The Press will be the ruin of this country. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 93 

ST. ASAPH. 
I don't agree. When Appleford and I left Oxford, we 
both wrote for the Press, and we thought ourselves tre- 
mendous swells when our stuff was aceepted. What is 
more, I have just undertaken to write a series of articles on 
Labour for the Daily News. 

BRADGERS. 

Leave newspapers alone ! / can give you a better oppor- 
tunity than any of 'em. 

ST. ASAPH. 

I wasn't thinking of opportunities. I thought it might do 
good — don't you know. 

BRADGERS. 

Nothing ever does any good, so far as that goes. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Then, I suppose, one must just do as much harm as one 
can ! 

BRADGERS. 

Very ready ! I delight in your peculiar humour. I wish 
you would write a Preface for my Laws of Honour pam- 
phlet. 

ST. ASAPH. 

0, I haven't an idea. 

BRADGERS {earnestly). 
That's why I w r ant you. 

ST. ASAPH. 

O, come ! Your humour is about as peculiar as mine ! 



94 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 



BRADGERS. 



The drawing-room, Duke, is no place for seriousness. 
Who could think of his higher self in such surroundings? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Will you come down to the library ? There are lots of 
marble busts of fellows all round the walls. It's awfully de- 
pressing — and nice for work ! 

BRADGERS {surveying the room). 

This luxury, Duke, is most insidious. It makes one ob- 
livious of the crying needs of the nation. (Leading.) That 
way? 

AsAPH. 

Yes, this way. 

(They go off as Georgina and Ada enter.) 

GEORGINA. 

Where is Sydney ? 

ADA. 

Sydney is in the library with this Bradgers person. 

GEORGINA. 

We shall be very late. Perhaps you had better go on. 

ADA. 

I prefer to stay here with you. That's a sweet gown 
. . . too darling. . . . What a shade ! 

GEORGINA. 

It is Sydney's favourite colour. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 95 

ADA {sighing). 
Ah, my dear, I hope you will never allow any one human 
being in particular ... to become indispensable to your 
happiness. 

georgina {serenely). 
No, no one, except Sydney. 

ADA. 
When will you be a woman of the world ? Now, let us 
consider Sydney calmly. He is rich, young, pleasant, sought 
after . . . 

GEORGINA. 

And a married man. 

ADA. 

Yes . . . we'll come to that later. He must have met a 
great many women before he rinally decided to make you 
his Duchess. 

GEORGINA. 

His wife. 

ADA. 

Better say Duchess ... it sounds more permanent ! 
Now, own, he must have had several love affairs. 

GEORGINA. 

But we needn't talk about them. 

ADA. 

I must. 

GEORGINA {puzzled). 

You must ? 



96 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ADA. 
" I have something to tell you . . . very difficult . . . you 
must be prepared to show all your spirit, your good sense. 
your pride. . . . After all, very pretty women can laugh at 
little . . . disloyalties . . . which would drive a plain one 
to despair. Did you know . . .did you ever hear that 
Sydney was once rather fond of Miss East ? 

GEORGINA. 

Amabel ! She said something . . . not much . . . they 
had met once or twice. I didn't think . . . {seizing her 
arm). Oh, what are you trying to say? He has no secrets 
from me . . . not one . . . /could explain — he would not 
have to explain ... I know his whole life . . . 

ADA. 

I am sure of that . . . that is why I refer to it. . . . Rut, 
all the same, why should she have fainted when she saw 
him this evening? One doesn't do that just out of a little 
friendship ! I feel it my duty to tell you that he has an ap- 
pointment with Miss East to-night at her hotel. I know 
this for a fact. 

GEORGINA {rising). 
' Is that all you have to tell me . . . because . . . {she 
goes up stage and staggers a little). 

ADA (taking her arm). 
You are a brave girl ! I am proud of you. You are 
splendid. He doesn't deserve you. But he'll be sorry . . . 
he will be very miserable ... he will beg your forgiveness. 

GEORGINA {fiercely}. 
There is nothing to forgive — nothing — absolutely nothing. 
And vou are lying to me— Iving ! 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 97 

ADA. 

I am not. And after this insult, I must insist on your 
proving my words. 



GEORGINA. 



How can I ? 



ADA. 

Will you come to the hotel with me to-night— Room 61, 
at 12.30? Will you come? Would you dare? We can 
manage it. What more natural than to call and inquire 
about her health—after that stupid fainting fit? 

GEORGINA. 

I cannot do it. 

ADA. 

Because you know I am right. But you owe it to me 
now. It is only fair after your cruel words — your insult. 
As if I would make mischief except from the highest mo- 
tives. I want you to save Sydney from a designing cat. 

GEORGINA. 

She is not a cat ! 

ADA. 

Then why does she ask your husband to call on her at 
midnight ? Not that you could be jealous of Amabel East. 

GEORGINA. 

I have no cause for jealousy. 

ADA. 

You may depend that she made all the advances. 

GEORGINA {indignant). 
Sydney is not a muff, my dear Ada ! 



r t 8 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ADA. 
Good Heavens ! I know that. 



GEORGINA. 
If Sydney chcse to make love to a woman, I couldn't 
entirely blame the . . . woman for believing him. Didn't 
/ believe in him ? 

ADA. 

You had a right to believe in him ! Who could doubt a 
man who proposed to one before breakfast, and in the 
autumn, too ! Still . . . 

GEORGINA. 

Well? 

ADA. 

Do you know what people say ? 

GEORGINA. ' 

No, and I don't care. . . . What do they say ? 

ADA. 

You see, you do care . . . that is all I wanted to find out. 
{Enter Footman with a note for Georgina, he gives it 
to her and goes out.) 

GEORGINA {looking at the note). 
Read it for me. ft is from Lord Malisbury. 

ADA {reading). 
My dear GEORGINA.-r Beyond a doubt, we shall manage 
the Secretaryship. Sydney is the very man for us ... he 
is so staunch, enthusiastic, and reliable. 

Yours very sincerely, 

Malisbury. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 99 

GEORGINA {mechanically). 
An appointment for Sydney. He is to take TWamerville's 
place. 

ADA. 

What fools men are ! What blind, mad fools ! Imagine 
the effect of gossip at this particular moment. If a hint of 
this should get into the papers, Sydney's career will be 
ruined. A career may end in a scandal, but it can never, 
never begin with one. In England the start is more impor- 
tant than the finish. 

GEORGINA. 
How dare you speak of a scandal — a scandal in connection 
with Sydney ! You are quite mistaken. It cannot be. I 
know my husband — I know his nature. It cannot be. I 
know Amabel also. 

ADA. 

My dear, men surprise themselves. Besides, the women 
who succeed with men are either very sentimental or very 
silly! Now, be silly or sentimental, but tell me what you 
mean to do. There is no time to be lost. This is a case for 
dash. Be as civil as possible, but there must be dash. 
W T hat then do you mean to do ? 

GEORGINA. 

I must think. 

ADA. 

That is not enough. You must deny it, we must all deny 
it, or, before to-morrow night, Sydney's madness wilt' be the 
talk of London. Nothing of this kind can be kept secret for 
more than one night. Your name and his will be in every 

LofC. 



lOO THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

one's mouth, laughed at by some, pitied by others — the gaz- 
ing- stock of all. 

GEORGINA {agitated). 
1 must think. 

ADA {seizing her wrist). 
Do you hear ? Do you care ? Do you understand ? 

GEORGINA. 

Do I hear ? Yes ! Do I care ? Yes / Do I fear ? No I 
Do I doubt Sydney ? No / . ... 

ADA. 

Oh, these moments ! Don't I know them ? You mur- 
mur a prayer, think of hell, and long for heaven. What 
women go through ! 

GEORGINA. 

I was never more calm. 

ADA {with admiration). 
This is no ordinary love ! 

GEORGINA. 
I hope not. 

ADA. 

This is a matter of the soul ! My poor child, Sydney does 
not deserve you. 

GEORGINA. 

I know his faults, but I can forgive them all, so long as he 
loves me. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE I'OI 

ADA. 
So long, and a little longer ... if you are wise ! But 
wait ! Let me peep over the staircase. {She looks out.) 
Here's Bertram ! 

(Romnev enters.) 

ROMNEY. 

Where is Sydney ? 

GEORGINA. 

He is with Mr. Bradgers. 

ROMNEY. 

Oh, I'm so sick of the Merediths' brass band. It has 
been braying at me for the last hour. Do play something 
tremendous from Wagner, Ada. 

(Ada goes into next room and plays.) 

GEORGINA. 

You don't seem in good spirits, Bertram. 

ROMNEY. 

I feel unhappy — for some reason — to the depths of my 
soul. 

GEORGINA (/riitYjr). 

When a very young man is very unhappy— one knows 
what to think. 

ROMNEY. 

There was a girl at the bail who looked — ever so little — 
like you. But she kept whirling past me— always with some 
one else — and she only made me remember how hopeless 
everything is and must be. 



102 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

GEORGINA, 

Is this how you amuse me ? 

ROMNEY {dropping his voice). 

May I speak out ? I came because . . . because I felt 
. . . I heard that you were in trouble. I couldn't stay away. 
You don't mind ? 

GEORGINA. 

Who said that I was in trouble 

ROMNEY. 

Bistern told me. 

GEORGINA. 

I am in no trouble. I wonder what he meant. 

ROMNEY. 

But I can see there is something. Why don't you trust 
me ? Perhaps I could advise you . . . perhaps . . . 

GEORGINA. 

You see, dear Bertram, I am not a schoolgirl now. I am 
married. 

ROMNEY. 

•Then you have all the greater need for counsel — for sym- 
pathy — you are so young and innocent. You might be de- 
ceived in many ways. 

GEORGINA. 

If I am ever so unfortunate as to be deceived, I know that 
I shall never be so weak as to require consolation to slow 
music. ' ■■ l 

ROMNEY. 

Georgina, you trample on the finest shades of feeling ! 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 103 

GEORGINA. 
I have no more to add. 

ROMNEY. 

After our long friendship . . . 

GEORGINA. 

You have killed it. 

ROMNEY. 

What have I said ? 

GEORGINA. 

What have you thought ? 

ROMNEY {dropping his eyes). 
You will live to regret this'. . . this injustice! 

GEORGINA {with a quick glance). 
Are you sure of that ? 

ROMNEY. 

Before Heaven ! . . . You have me at a disadvantage ! 

GEORGINA. 

Did you not hope that it might have been the other way 
about ? 

ROMNEY. 

I dare not trust myself to answer you. 

GEORGINA. 

I think you have already trusted yourself too far ! 

ROMNEY. 

This ends it. Good-night. 



104 Him WISDOM OF THE WISE 

GEORGINA. 

Goodbye! Ada, you may stop playing, Bertram has to 
go now. (She walks to door.) 

ROMNEY (holding out his hand). 
Good-night. 

GEORGINA. 

Goodbye ! 

ROMNEY. 

Goodbye, then. I suppose it is for ever. In fact, I'm 
only miserable when I see you. And — don't write — but the 
old address, in Jermyn Street, will always find me. 
(He bows very low and goes toward door as St. Asaph 
enters. ) 

ST. asaph (slapping him 071 the back). 
Ah, Romney, have you been breaking hearts the whole 
evening ? We married men have no show at all against 
such. gay deceivers ! What do you think, Georgina ? 

ROMNEY (bitterly'). 
One must find a heart before one can break it ! 
(He goes out.) 

ST. ASAPH. 

H'm ... a pathetic, weary-eyed, little boy, that ! Not a 
bad sort, but a trifle depressing. Did they tell you that I 
was with Bradgers ? . 

GEORGINA. 
Yes. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 105 

ST. ASAPH. 
He has asked me to write the preface for his new pam- 
phlet, The Laws of Honour. 

GEORGINA. 

Will you do it ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

I intend to try. 

GEORGINA. • 

That's splendid ! Won't they call this coming on very 
fast ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

I must get the thing finished for the printers before two 
o'clock. I must take black coffee. . . . Are you tired ? I 
find other people's home circles rather boring, don't you ? 

GEORGINA. 

But aren't you coming to the ball ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Darling, I can't. 

GEORGINA. 

Shall I stay at home with you ? 

ST. ASAPH {embarrassed). 

I should love it, but . . . don't you think they rather ex- 
pect you ? 

GEORGINA. 

Perhaps. . . . Do you want me to go ? 



106 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ST. ASAPH. 
For an hour, at any rate. 

GEORGINA. 

What do you think of Amabel ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Charming ! One would take to her. 

GEORGINA. 



She is handsome. 
And pleasant. 



ST. ASAPH. 



GEORGINA. 

I often wonder whether she had some disappointment in 
love. Did you know her very well — long ago ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

I admired her very much. 

GEORGINA {bluntly). 
Did you ever think of asking her to marry you ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

I was at the age when you think of marrying the girl you 
are about to meet. I used to go to balls and say, " Perhaps 
I shall meet her — the one — at last ! " Wherever I went I 
looked for the face that could haunt me for ever, and make 
me write poetry, and fight duels, and become famous ! 
That sort of thing ! I was a young ass! I made no end of 
mistakes. 

GEORGINA. 
Did vou make a mistake about me ? 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE I07 

ST. ASAPH. 

Darling! I knew that I loved you straight off, in dead 
earnest. 

GEORGINA. 

How ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Because I didn't want to run after you. I wanted to run 
away. That's the first impulse of a wise man in love. 

GEORGINA. 

Men argue strangely. 

ST. ASAPH. 

It's an awful moment when a fellow knows that he is 
taken — body and soul. He's bound to fight a bit at first. I 
fought. 

GEORGINA. 

Against me ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

You see, real love is a serious thing. If you try to beat 
it, every scene becomes a torment ; your friends grow te- 
dious, your life goes all to pieces, you get moody, and you 
generally want to die. 

GEORGINA. 

You know a great deal about it ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Yes, I do — one way and another. I am deuced senti- 
mental, you know. People don't guess it, but I am . . . 



IOS THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

GEORGINA. 

One way and another ! Sydney, have you ever doubted 
any one you loved ? Have you ever felt as though your 
heart were being- stoned ? Have you ever felt your head 
spinning, and the ground slipping away under your feet? 

ST. ASAPH. 

No ! because I couldn't love any one whom I doubted. 

GEORGINA. 

I am afraid ... I could . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

It is not to be imagined — yet (with an inspiration), sup- 
pose I doubted you ? 

GEORGINA. 

Yes! 

ST. ASAPH. 

I should say — if I could once look her well in the eyes — a 
long look — so . . . {he takes her face in his hands.) I 
should know everything. (He seems nevertheless a little 
mystified by her expression^) Wouldn't I be right ? 

GEORGINA. 

I hope so. 

ST. ASAPH. 

You hope so f /am sure of it. 

GEORGINA. 

Men are weak with the women they love, because they can 
always depend on the one who loves them. {Clock chimes. | 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 1 0<) 

ST. ASAPH {puzzled.) 

I forgot — Bradgers is wailing for me all this time. Shall 
I send him away ? 

GEORGINA. 

No, no ! Your career. And the preface — the preface for 
The Laws of Honour pamphlet. 

ST. asaph (%oing off). 
Oh, yes ! that beastly preface. ... I shall feel such a prig 
— such an impostor. One does, for some reason, when one 
begins to jaw on the abstract virtues. 

GEORGINA. 

Yes ! one does. . . . Sydney ! 



Yes. 



ST. ASAPH. 



GEORGINA. 



I know that I am not a woman of your world. I must 
seem a fool in comparison with these others. They are all 
so wise ... so brilliant. . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

Nonsense ! They are only clever/^ and smart/s/i. I 
don't take any stock in 'em. 

GEORGINA. 

Sydney, we need all our courage. 

ST. ASAPH {gravely). 
The only courage I need is — the courage to love you less. 



IIO THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

GEORG1NA. 
Ah, you can say things ! {Steadily.) I was very peace- 
ful as a girl. I loved music. I liked to dance. I liked to 
drive and ride and swim. I read Sir Walter Scott. I learnt 
Irregular Verbs, and I used to draw flowers. And then — 
I met you ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

Thank God ! 

GEORGINA. 

I read no more Sir Walter Scott ; I drew no more flowers, 
and I forgot all that I had ever learnt about Irregular Verbs ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

What a mercy ! 

GEORGINA. 

Now, what have I done to you that you should come into 
my life, change all my tastes, take all my thoughts, my 
hopes, my fears, my joys, my very heart, my very soul, and 
make me wretched ? Did I call you ? Did I ask for you ? 
No, you came to me. You talked to me. You understood 
me. You seemed to care for me . . . you married me. . . . 
And now . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

You say I have made you wretched ? 

GEORGINA. 

You have made me everything except the one thing I must 
be. 

ST, ASAPH. 

What is that? 



THE WISDOM UK THE WISE III 

GEORGINA. 
Your friend. . . . You tell me I am pretty and amiable, 
and so on. ... I am glad you think so . . . very glad. 
You give me your name, your protection, your compliments, 
your family jewels, and your family history. But you give 
your confidence elsewhere. . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

What has gone wrong ? Every word I have heard this 
evening has been a sting— or a stab. We came here be- 
lieving in ourselves and in each other. I knew we were not 
perfect, but I thought we were, on the whole, all right. I 
can think of our walks through the woods, of the flowers, 
the sunlight, the singing of the birds, but I have already 
forgotten — or else I dare not remember — how happy we 
were ! 

GEORGINA. 

The love which does not suffer and which cannot speak 
is but a dream— perhaps. And love which is constant is 
but a lie — perhaps. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Constancy — a lie ! 

GEORGINA. 

Oh, don't you hate people who attack your friends ? 
What do you say to them ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

I call them liars — which they probably consider a com- 
pliment ! 

GEORGINA. 

But suppose there is a grain of truth in their stories ? 



112 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ST. ASAPH. 

In that case, I call them damnable liars ! 

GEORGINA. 

Oh, that is like you ! Go now, go ! You must write the 
preface. 

(St. Asaph kisses her and goes out.) 

GEORGINA (looking after him, falls sobbing ill a chair). 
Oh, I am alone in the world — alone ! 
(Ada rushes in.) 

ADA. 

Darling Georgina ! I am so sorry for you, but we must 
start now. And you owe it to me to call at Miss East's, 
Room 61, at half-past twelve. 

GEORGINA {with defiance). 
I still know that you are wrong. 

ADA. 

We shall see ! 

GEORGINA. 

And if you are wrong, Ada, what then ? 

ADA. 

But if I am right ? 
{She drags GEORGINA after her and they go out.) 

End of the Second Act. 



l 3 



ACT III 

SCENE : The Louis Seise suite at the Cosmopolitan Hotel, 
Pall Mall. Amabel and Pennington, her maid. 

PENNINGTON. 

You are looking yourself again, now. 

AMABEL. 

I need rest, Pennington. I want to get away from Lon- 
don and dream and think. 

PENNINGTON. 

Oh no, you don't want to think. There is nothing worse. 
You must be bright and drink champagne, and row on the 
river, and enjoy life while you are young. 

AMABEL. 

Enjoy life ! 

PENNINGTON. 

You shouldn't give way to such feelings. It's such a 
miserable way of going on. 

AMABEL {with indignation). 
I like to be miserable ! 



114 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

PENNINGTON. 

Have you heard that Lord Appleford is in London? 
Sometimes I hope that you and he may come together 
again. 

'AMABEL. 
You don't understand, Pennington, how impossible that 
is. If we should ever meet again, it would be as friends — 
friends only. 

{She sails out with the " History of Byzantine Mosaics " 
under her arm. Enter Mrs. Lupton Milles.) 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Is Miss Amabel better ? 

PENNINGTON. 

She has put on her new tea-gown and she is reading that 
everlasting History of Byzantine Mosaics. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

She saw Lord Appleford at Chale House. He loves her . 
more madly than ever. 

PENNINGTON. 

You used to think he loved her money. I didn't. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Hold your tongue ! He is very rich now himself and the 
case is altered. 

PENNINGTON. 

And how well it sounds ! Mrs. Lupton Milles's niece — 
the Lady Appleford. Oh.it does sound well! I believe 
she worships him. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE I 1 5 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Why? 

PENNINGTON. 

She never speaks of him. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

That does not prove much. 

PENNINGTON. 

But whenever I talk of the old days when they were so 
happy in Rome and read poetry together, and visited monu- 
ments, she always has a good cry and gives me a silk found- 
ation. I've had three silk foundations this week — as good 
as new. 

{A Waiter enters with a card on a tray.) 

PENNINGTON {reading card as she hands it). 
Good gracious ! 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Mr. De Lisle Bradgers ! {To Waiter.) Ask the gentle- 
man to come in. (Waiter goes out.) Go to Miss Amabel 
and keep her occupied. 

(Pennington goes out as Bradgers enters.) 

BRADGERS. 

How are you, my dear friend, how are you ? 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Oh, about the same, and you ? 

BRADGERS. 

I've been over-working ; I ought not to be out. But I 
was calling on Sydney St. Asaph — the Duke, you know — 
this evening : he mentioned that you were in town for one 
night only. I said, " I must see her," and here I am. 



MO THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Do sit down. 

BRADGERS {seating himself). 
You mustn't go to Russia. Why go to Russia? Horrid 
place— so draughty. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

It is Amabel's wish. 

BRADGERS. 

You need a man — with a firm will — in this family. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

To tell the truth, I am getting rather tired of being 
dragged about by this capricious girl. Where do / come in ? 
I ask myself. 

BRADGERS. 

A very sensible reflection. One can't make it too often 
in this selfish world. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Amabel ought to marry. 

BRADGERS. 

A little bird told me that she once liked Maurice Apple- 
ford ! Is that true ? 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES (cqyfy). 

How can you ask a woman to betray the secrets of an- 
other woman's heart. 

BRADGERS. 

I'll say no more. 



THE WISDOM OE THE WISE \\J 

MRS. LUPTON M1LLES. 

But what else did the little bird say? 

BRADGERS. 

Well, little birds always tell long stories. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Oh, you witty creature ! Literary men are too charming ! 

BRADGERS. 

I am but a poor Grub Street garreteer — nothing more. 
MRS. LUPTON MILLES {alarmed). 

Oh, don't say that ! In the old days, Lord Appleford 
used to call himself a Grub Street garreteer. . . . There ! 
I have let the cat out of the bag. 

BRADGERS. 

Ah, then the Appleford story is true ? 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Since you ask me — yes. She was infatuated. So was he. 
We didn't know what to think. 

BRADGERS. 

What could she see in him ? 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Oh, he was considered a handsome man. I prefer a more 
rugged style myself — something strenuous and uncommon, 
but silly girls — well, you know what girls are ! 

BRADGERS, 

I was always given to understand that he was a wretched 
little man. . . . 

(WAITER enters with a card which he hands to Mrs. 
Luptox MILLES.) 



1 1.8 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES {handing card to BRADGERS). 
Here he is. 

BRADGERS {reading). 
Lord Appleford. What a coincidence ! I have been 
wanting to meet him. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES {to WAITER). 
Show the gentleman in. 
{The Waiter goes out. Appleford enters. He does Hoi 
perceive BRADGERS.) 

BRADGERS {at back). 
Good Lord ! The secretary ! . . . {Steals away on tiptoe 
till he reaches the door.) 

APPLEFORD. 

Is she better ? 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Better, much better . . . but let me introduce you . . . 
{Looks round.) Mr. Bradgers. . . . 

BRADGERS {at the door). 
Another time ! another time ! I won't intrude. 
{He bolts.) 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

How extraordinary ! 

APPLEFORD. 

Did I catch the name of Bradgers ? 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

Certainly, but I am afraid he was taken ill. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 119 

appleford {smiling). 
I daresa) he caught my name. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

But he was so anxious to meet you. 

APPLEFORD. 

I can explain the matter another time . . . But tell me, 
does Amabel know that you asked me to come here ? Be- 
cause this intrusion is not . . . Well, I leave you to fill in 
the rest . . . Does Amabel know that you expect me ? 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

She does not. 

APPLEFORD. 

Is that the truth ? 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

On my word of honour. Alas ! poor darling, how she 
adored you ! how she idolised you ! 

APPLEFORD. 

I can't think that. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

I may not always be here to look after the poor child. 
Things happen . . . one marries ... I wake in the night 
shaking and shivering at the the thought of Amabel alone in 
the world with my sister Sarah. 

APPLEFORD. 

Where is Sarah now ? 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

In bed with ice on her temples ! She may be a woman 
for a crisis — but we have to know it for weeks afterwards 1 



120 THE WISDOM OV THE WISE 

APPLEFORD. 

Why didn't you say these things long ago ? But you 
made Amabel suspicious, distrustful. . . . 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

1 had to observe reasonable caution. Could I permit my 
niece — a mere schoolgirl — to tie herself for life to a poor and 
idle young man ? 

appleford. 
Excuse me, I wasn't idle. I was hard at work. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

You were writing very clever books, I daresay, but there 
wasn't a penny of money in them — not a penny ! No one 
ever talked about them. I acted for the best. 

APPLEFORD. 

You nearly spoilt her life and mine. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

At any rate, you have no rival. Men amuse her, but she 
cannot love them. 

APPLEFORD. 

Neither the whirl of life, nor fresh scenes, nor new faces 
have mattered — to me. I couldn't forget her. I wonder 
whether she would see me — for a moment only — just for a 
moment. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

I will see. Amabel ! {goes to the door) Amabel ! 

amabel {within). 
Yes. 



THi v/IwiJ f. lSE 121 

MRS. LUPTON M1LLES. 

Could you see a friend ? 

AMABEL. 

1 will come at once. 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

She is coming. 
(Amabel enters, sees Appleford, and steps back.) 

AMABEL. 

Maurice ! 

MRS. LUPTON MILLES. 

We have been talking, darling. ... I thought you ought 
to see each other. (S/iegoes out.) 

AMABEL. 

You . . . here ? 

APPLEFORD. 

Forgive me, Amabel. 1 had to come. I could not help 
coming. 

AMABEL. 

Why? 

APPLEFORD. 

Because 1 wanted to see you. 

A M A B EL ( sentimentally) . 
Has one word been left unsaid between us ? Have we 
not said — everything ? Have 1 not suffered — everything ? 

APPLEFORD. 

I will make no reference to the past, dear— /V/<y/</. 



122 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

AMABEL {mortified). 
Then I am glad — truly glad to welcome you. {Gives him 
her hand — withdraws it after a pause.) 

APPLEFORD {with a sigh). 

Let us concentrate on the future. You look just as you 
did on that night — three years ago — when I talked about 
the pleasures of hope. I shouldn't talk that way now. 

AMABEL {troubled). 
Why not ? It's a beautiful subject . . . very touching. 

APPLEFORD. 

It doesn't do to be touching ! . . . But you were eighteen 
with a face like a song and a voice like a starry night. 

AMABEL. 

Oh, Maurice ! I have often wondered what you saw in 
me in the old days. 

APPLEFORD. 

I used to walk up and down that old street in Rome half 
the night — gazing at your window. 

AMABEL. 

Let us talk about the future . . . your plans. 

APPLEFORD. 

First, tell me yours. 

AMABEL. 

Mine are somewhat indefinite. 

APPLEFORD. 

Curiously enough, so are mine. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 1 23 

■ 

AMABEL. 

Something seems to call me to Russia ... the snows, 
the frozen sea, the long, long, lonely roads ... 

APPLEFOKD. 

The plains, vast, enigmatic, everlasting . . . 

AMABEL. 

With not a creature in sight. 

APPLEFORD. 

I don't quite like the idea of your being alone on those 
plains. It is almost a pity that we can't arrange to go to- 
gether. Could it be arranged ? 

AMABEL. 

I am afraid it might give rise to comment. 

APPLEFORD. 

Let us consider the position. Take two people. They 
each have a longing, a yearning for solitude. 

AMABEL. 

Yes. 

APPLEFORD. 

They start together for the uninhabited wilds ! What 
could be more natural ? It would commend itself to every 
fair mind. Why then hesitate ? 

AMABEL. 

There are not enough fair minds. 

APPLEFORD. 

Darling, was all your feeling for the Byzantine Mosaics ? 
Didn't you care a rush about me ? 



124 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

AMABEL. 

I must have time ... I must have time. . . . 

APPLEFORD. 

Don't you think now that with all our pleasant store of 
recollections, we might get along quite comfortably from 
day to day ? For instance, every time i take your hand 
{takes if) I am reminded of the afternoon when ! held ii all 
the way from the Vatican to the Coliseum ! 

amabel {shocked). 
Really, Maurice ! 

APPLEFORD. 

It is the merest reminiscence ! Now, of those fair 
we spent alone, not one will ever come again. {Amabel lai*. 
disappointed.) {Sighs.) Yet, why not make the plunge ? 

AMABEL. 

What plunge ? 

APPLEFORD. 

Why not live on our memoirs and our imagination ? 

AMABEL. 

I don't quite understand. 

APPLEFORD. 

Let me explain. For instance, let us imagine ourselves 
in our own home. Charming room. Velvet curtains in 
old rose. A few Gainsboroughs on the wall. Logs burn- 
ing in the open grate. We are sitting — you and I — alone 
by the fire. We are perhaps a little bored. 

AMABEL. 

Bored ? Oh, never ! 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 125 

APPLEFORD. 

For the sake of the argument ! I leave my chair 
proach yours. I say, " My dearest Heart, do you remember 
the evening's when I used to kneel at your feet, and tell you 
all my thoughts, my ambitions? And how you used to 
listen, how your eyes used to fill with tears when I told you 
of my struggles : how the colour rushed into your cheeks 
when I told you of a little success. I am sorry this isn t the 
garret I promised you. And then you would say — weli, 1 
wonder what you would say. 

AMABEL. 

You know I never say much, but I think— I mean I used 
to think that no one in the world was {bites her lip) 
was like you, Maurice. 

APPLEFORD. 

Well, let us suppose, then, that you make a remark to 
that effect. I would continue . . . Oh ! Amabel, I can't 
joke about it any more. I am in earnest — dead earnest. If 
we cannot be as we were, we must never meet again. I 
have got the rose velvet curtains, and the logs in the grate. 
and the Gainsboroughs on the wall. I have got the two 
chairs. But one of them is empty. And when I sit there 
alone— looking at it, I think—" What has my work done for 
me ? What is all this to me ? She isn't here to care. " 

AMABEL. 

Oh, Maurice, are you sure this isn't pity? — a noble kind 
of revenge ? Y'ou were always Quixotic . . . 

(Pennington enters and beckons mysteriously^ 

PENNINGTON. 

Miss Amabel ? 



126 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

AMABEL. 
Yes. . . . 

PENNINGTON {still beckoning). 
. Miss Amabel. . . . 

AMABEL {going to her). 
What is it ? 

PENNINGTON. 

This gentleman is waiting to see you. 

AMABEL. 

Ask him to wait till I ring. 

PENNINGTON. 

Yes, miss. {She goes out?) 

AMABEL {recovering herself). 
You must go. We have talked too long. You must go. 

APPLEFORD; 

But you are leaving London early in the morning. {She 
is silent.) You will see me once more ? 

AMABEL. 

Good-night. 

appleford {looks at her, hesitates). 
You will see me once more ? 

AMABEL. 

No, no ! I must not ! I dare not ! 

APPLEFORD. 

You dare not ! 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 12/ 

AMABEL. 
1 must be consistent. I have serious thoughts of enter- 
ing a convent — for life. 

APPLEFORD. 

But what about Russia ? Let me entreat you to make no 
hasty decision. You will see me in the morning ? 

AMABEL. 

It is madness . . . but . . . 

APPLEFORD. 

At nine * 

AMABEL {desperately). 
At nine ! 

APPLEFORD. 

You will keep your word ? 

AMABEL. 

1 will keep my word. At nine. 

APPLEFORD. 

Good-night. 

AMABEL {still retains his hand). 
Good-night. Go ! Go ! . . . 

APPLEFORD {hesitates a moment). 
You have nothing else to say to me ? 

AMABEL. 

Yes. I am expecting a visitor. 

APPLEFORD. 

At this hour ? 



128 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

AMABEL (desperately) . 
Yes ! He is waiting" now in the next room. . . . Perhaps 
you wonder why he comes to see me. 

APPLEFORD. 

I ask to know only so much as you may wish to tell me. 

amabel {looking at him). 
He is a friend. . . . 

APPLEFORD. 

Do you wish me to say that I doubt you ? 

AMABEL. 

I want you to say what you think. 

APPLEFORD. 

I think you are incapable of deceiving me, but you are in- 
finitely capable of deceiving yourself. 

AMABEL. 

It is ... it is St. Asaph. 

APPLEFORD (with a sigh of relief). 
St. Asaph ! 

AMABEL. 

I cannot tell you why he is here. 

APPLEFORD. 

Perhaps you do not know. 

AMABEL {looking at him — after a pause). 
Will you wait there — in aunt's sitting-room— till he goes ? 
(APPLEFORD looks at her and goes into the next room. 
Amabel rings the bell. Pen x i xgton enters 'followed 
ly St. Asaph.! 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 129 

PENNINGTON. 

His Grace the Duke of St. Asaph. {She goes out.) 

AMABEL. 

So you have come. 

ST. ASAPH. 

At the eleventh hour I was detained. I had to do some 

writing. I left it because, at any cost, I am determined to 

offer you my advice. You are not behaving well to Apple- 
ford. 

AMABEL. 

My dear friend ! 

ST. ASAPH. 

1 mean what I say. There is no woman — except my wife 
—for whom I have a deeper affection than yourself. But 
you are spoiling two lives. You are sacrificing Appleford 
and yourself for a mere idea. You cannot doubt his devo- 
tion to you. 

AMABEL. 

If you could realise how I long to give in, what a struggle 
it is to say No, no, when my heart means Yes, yes. . . . 
You see I hate myself so much. 

ST. ASAPH. 
Why? 

AMABEL. 

He must despise me for my weakness long ago— listening 
to my aunts— who thought he was mercenary, and not 
trusting my own instincts. 



130 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

ST. ASAPH. 

You don't make the mistake better by playing the fool 
now. I beg your pardon, but you are so sensible in all 
matters except in this one great matter of your own happi- 
ness. There is no rose without a thorn, but there are many 
thorns without roses ! Take life from that point of view. 

AMABEL. 

But if I saw Maurice unhappy after our marriage — I 
couldn't bear it, I couldn't. 

ST. ASAPH. 

A man who has made a mistake in his wife can never be 
so wretched as a woman who has chosen the wrong husband. 
You know Ada Wuthering? 

AMABEL. 

Yes, I know her. 

ST. ASAPH. 

She is beautiful, young, clever. And there is no one so 
miserable. Why ? Because discontent has made her sus- 
picious of everything and every creature. She thinks that 
no woman is sincere, and no man to be trusted. The fact 
is that Wuthering adores her. And if the truth were known, 
she is very fond of Wuthering. But they wrangle from 
morning to night, deceive each other at every opportunity, 
and imagine that all others are the same. Now be honest 
with yourself, and see how easy it will be to believe in 
Appleford. Have you ever loved any one better than Mau- 
rice ? 

AMABEL. 

Never. 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 131 

ST. ASAPH. 

Very well. Then give him credit for as much fidelity. 

AMABEL. 

But women are different. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Upon my word, I think men are the more constant ! 

AMABEL. 

Do you ? . . . Rich and popular men often desire things 
merely because they cannot attain them. That object once 
gained, the charm vanishes. 

ST. ASAPH. 

You like Appleford, but, evidently, you have no true con- 
ception of his character. He cares for nothing in this world 
but you. 

AMABEL. 

But why are you so anxious — so eager about this ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Surely now, Amabel, we can trust each other. You will 
alienate all your friends if you give way to these suspicious 
moods, and do forget your money. It is a good, useful 
thing in its way, but you make it too expensive. You were 
always full of doubts and misgivings. 

AMABEL. 

You are very severe. 

ST. ASAPH. 

I am sorry, but I don't like to see a good fellow trifled 
with. There are not so many of them. You will believe 
me when I say that Appleford has never once wavered in all 
these years. 



132 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

AMABEL. 

This is torture ! My mind is divided against itself . . . 
say no more now. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Ah, then there is some hope ? 

AMABEL. 

Who knows ? I dare not think ... I must have time . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

This is the moment. That is why I am here. He talks 
of going abroad again. Once more he will leave England — 
his estates, his duties, his ambitions. I don't say that he is 
right to let his love for you so disturb his life, but /know 
some of the strongest men do wrong in just this way. Love 
seems to make the foolish — wise, and wise men — mad ! 

AMABEL. 

Oh', let me think ... I feel sure that you have mistaken 
his friendship — our friendship — for love. We are friends — 
nothing more. 

ST. ASAPH. 

I know Appleford. He is a strange fellow. He hesitates 
when he doesn't know his own mind : when he knows it — 
and he knows it in your case — he never rests — he cannot 
rest — until his point is gained. Cut-and-dry sentiments 
do no good at all. You cannot foist wives or tastes upon a 
man like Appleford. 

AMABEL (fiassionate/y). 
How I wish it could all be decided for me. Why doesn't 
Fate step in and take away the responsibility ? 
( Voices heard outside.) 



ADA {outside). 
I am so glad that she is better. Aren't you glad, Georgi- 
na ? No, don't announce us. Let us go in. 

AMABEL. 

Who is that ? 

GEORGINA {heard outside). 
Is this the door ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

Good God ! It is my wife ! What will she think? 
(GEORGINA and Ada enter.) 

georgina {seeing St. Asaph, give* >a cry of surprise) . 

Sydney ! Oh, Sydney ! 

ADA {looking round in triumph). 
Georgina was so anxious. I am dreadfully sorry, of course. 

ST. ASAPH. 

Sorry — what for ? 

ADA {laughing). 
Well, if you can't see — in the circumstances . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

What's the matter with the circumstances ? 

ADA. 

My dear Sydney, I can stand a good deal, but . . . 

ST. ' SA'H. 

My dear Ada, who is asking you to stand a good deal ? 
(AMABEL goes across the room to the door leading into next 
room, opens it. and calls.) 



134 THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 

AMABEL. 

Maurice! 

(Lord Appleford enters.) 

ST. asaph {quietly, to Appleford). 
Ada has brought Georgina to call, in fact, they have 
stolen a march upon us. This serves us right. We wished 
to keep our secret a day longer. 

GEORGINA {mechanically). 
What secret ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

I will tell you. There were once two people : both were 
very clever, both were very much in love, but one was very 
obstinate. Now, which was the obstinate one ? {Joins 
Amabel's and Appleford's hands.) Could anybody be- 
lieve that either of these delightful persons could ever have 
been in the wrong? {To Appleford.) You understand ? 



Perfectly. 



APPLEFORD. 



GEORGINA. 



Sydney ! . . . Amabel ! {She kisses her) I am crying . . . 
because . . . because I am so glad. (St. Asaph goes to 
her and they go up together. ) 

ADA. 
Forgive me if I rub my eyes. It is all so astonishing ! 
But I congratulate you both with all my heart. {To Ama- 
i;kl.) Then you won't take that long journey to-morrow? 
( V v jnoves up.) 



THE WISDOM OF THE WISE 1 35 

AMABEL. 

I ... I think not. . . . Fate has decided so much 
that . . . 

APPLEFORD. 

If you are a wise woman, you will let Fate do all the rest. 

AMABEL {putting her ha?ids in his). 
Does this prove my wisdom ? 

APPLEFORD. 

No, something much better ! 

AMABEL. 

What can that be ! 

APPLEFORD. 

Your love ! 
(St. Asaph and Georgina come down to opposite side of 
stage?) 

ST. ASAPH. 

It is morning now. {Looks at his watch?) Two o'clock. 
My dearest, we must catch the 9.30 for St. Asaph. 

GEORGINA. 

Isn't there an earlier train ? 

ST. ASAPH. 

I am afraid not. 

GEORGINA. 

Oh, let us be alone by ourselves ... for the rest of the 
year. 

ST. ASAPH. 

In our own home . . . 



136 T^E WISDOM OF THE WISE 

GEORGINA. 

Without a single friend . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

Or relative . . •. 

GEORGINA. 

We shall be happy . . . 

ST. ASAPH. 

Ever afterwards ! But we are forgetting Ada ! 
(He looks towards Ada, who stands alone in centre, looking 
from one couple to tfie other.) 

ADA. 

Don't mind me ! The highest order of mind is always 
solitary. But I love to see you happy— and I hope it will 
last. I said from the beginning . . . 

GEORGINA. 

What ? 

ADA. 

That marriage, in some cases, was a complete success ! 
Can I say more ! 

ST. ASAPH (to GEORGINA). 

Darling ! 

APPLEFORD {to AMABEL.) 

Dearest ! 

End of the Play. 






BINDERY 



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